Batman & the Lady in Red
by jjhatter
Summary: When the World's Greatest Thief begins a strange crime spree in Gotham, angering some of the city's most notorious criminals in the process, it's up to the World's Greatest Detective to put the pieces together before the situation gets out of hand...
1. Chapter 1

I started writing at a very young age; I was still in Elementary School when I wrote my first story. It was entitled, as this one is now, "Batman & the Lady in Red," and it was, as this one is, a crossover between the universe of the Caped Crusader, and the universe of Carmen Sandiego.

That is where the similarities stop, pretty much. See, in Elementary School, younger me didn't know how to write a good story, to be blunt. The plot made no sense, most of the dialogue was made up of quotes that didn't always fit together, the characters didn't always act in-character, it was just a complete and utter mess. Again, I was a kid; what did I know? As I have gotten older, I have long wanted to revisit the concept, and rewrite the story from the ground up, using all I have learned in the past twelve or fifteen years since to make a better product.

And that rewrite is what you are about to take a look at. I don't expect many people to read this, and I'm not sure everyone who does will enjoy it...it's just a personal project of mine. I will be updating this story every week on Thursday, until it is completed; if anything changes, I will let you know. I'll tell you all right now, the full story has already been written, so it WILL be completed. I just don't want to release it all at once.

Now, a few boring issues out of the way...

Summary: When the World's Greatest Thief goes on a strange crime spree across Gotham City, angering some of Gotham's most notorious criminals in the process, it's up to the World's Greatest Detective to try and put the pieces together before the situation gets out of hand...

Rating: PG/K+ (this is pretty lighthearted fare, all things considered; the rating is mostly for safety's sake)

Disclaimer: Carmen Sandiego and all characters and settings related to her are the property of The Learning Company. Batman and all characters and settings related to him are the property of DC Comics. I own nothing. ALSO, NOTE: the cover/thumbnail image for this story was made by combining an image of the Bat Symbol with a clip art of a red fedora. The clip art is in the public domain; as for the Bat Symbol, I do not own the original image, but the edits made to it to create this cover art are my own. If anyone wishes for me to remove the image/cover, I shall do so at once. NO COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT IS INTENDED; NO MONEY IS BEING MADE OFF THIS; THIS IS FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY.

Note: Neither of the universes colliding is based solely off one particular adaptation; I'm sort of combining all of my favorite elements from various takes here, with a few original touches of my own. Even though I'm giving this as a crossover with the cartoon show "Where on Earth...?" that's only for formality's sake, since I don't see any other Carmen-related categories on the site. Elements of Earth WILL be featured - my Carmen is largely inspired by the cartoon show, just for a start - but elements of other versions will also be present.

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone. I hope those of you who read this enjoy it.

**Chapter I: Petrov's Defence**

It was ten minutes till midnight in Gotham City. A blood moon shone down upon the urban turf, giving a reddish tint to the night and everything it lighted upon. Many in their homes were watching the eclipse through their windows, peering through the dim-yet-glaring lights of the city landscape to try and glimpse the stars in the sky.

Eclipse or no eclipse, however, crime marches on...and with such a moon in the sky, in such a place as Gotham, many couldn't help but feel an ominous chill. From the beat cops patrolling the streets, to children tucked safely into their apartment bedrooms, there was a general feeling that something was about to happen…a sense of palpable tension in the air, so tangible you could almost cut it with crooked shears.

It was nights like this that made the Batman feel most on edge.

On a tall building in the heart of the West Side District, silhouetted in the faint crimson glow of the night, the figure of the Dark Knight could be seen, perched - fittingly enough - upon a decorative gargoyle. The deep red of the night gave hima particularly imposing appearance as he gazed down through a pair of dark binoculars at the street below. His black, scalloped cape, with a dark blue lining, gently billowing about him in the breeze, the stormy blue eyes behind the sharp-eared cowl narrowed as he looked through the lenses in silence as stony as his perch. The tight-fitting, armored costume beneath the cowled cloak was as gray as a thundercloud, with black gauntlets and boots that had spikes, almost resembling bat wings, jutting from their underside. The only spots of color on him were the gold of his utility belt...and the matching golden color of the bat insignia emblazoned on his chest.

An electronic beep caught the Caped Crusader's attention; he lifted one gloved hand and tapped the side of his cowl, activating his hidden communicator.

"Go ahead, Alfred," the Dark Knight growled, his words altered by the voice changer concealed in his equipment.

"Sir," came the crisp, English-accented voice on the other end, "Mr. Fox has just finished the upgrades on the Batmobile you requested. On his behalf, I should ask that you at least try not to drive it off a bridge for the seventy-fifth time in the near future...and I say the near future because, by now, I'm fully aware that asking for it not to happen at all is to hope in vain."

A smirk flickered over Batman's lips, but it was gone as quickly as it came.

"Thank you, Alfred," he droned dryly.

"Are you still watching over the Natural History Museum?" asked Alfred Pennyworth. "Unless I'm mistaken, by what the computer is telling me, you've been there for...well...quite some time."

"Earlier today, an Ancient Egyptian Sculpture of Bast, the Cat Goddess of Protection of Fertility," Batman reminded the butler. "It's made of solid gold, with a ruby-studded 'collar' and emeralds for eyes."

"I trust that your interest is not academic?"

"My interest is Selina Kyle."

"Well, we've all suspected that, sir, for years."

"Catwoman escaped from Blackgate three nights ago," Batman pressed on, ignoring Alfred's comment completely. "I haven't even heard a meow from her since."

"Then it's an attempted social check-in?"

"Very funny. No, it's simple logic: a carved gold statue, covered in precious gems, in the shape of an Ancient Cat Goddess? It's far too perfect a potential prize for Selina to overlook."

As he spoke, the Dark Knight looked over the Natural History Museum below; its roof was mostly made of glass, the better to catch the sunlight and conserve on electrical energy. Through the glass, he could actually see, with his special specs, the glass case containing the new sculpture. His eyes then moved to the magnificent marble-lined doorway of the Museum; two night watchmen were standing guard in front of the door, and he knew at least another two were inside. It was tough odds, but Catwoman had never balked at them before.

"Any sign of her?" Alfred piped up.

"Half an hour, and not so much as a flicker in the shadows," Batman mumbled.

"Keep your eyes peeled, sir," Alfred said. "I trust your instincts on this case."

Unbeknownst to the Caped Crusader, even as he was watching...he was also being watched.

Through what looked like a pair of golden opera glasses, with red lenses, a tall, elegant, and decidedly feminine figure inspected him closely. An electronic beep caught her attention, and she lifted a graceful hand, as if to brush a lock of hair away...and in the process, brushed it across one of the ruby pins that pierced her earlobes

"We're all set?" the woman asked in a dusky sort of voice.

"Yeah, boss," came the gruff voice on the other end. "Is...he there?"

The woman smirked.

"Just as I anticipated, yes."

"Are you sure you want to try this?" the voice pressed. "I mean...you know what they say about this weirdo, don't you?"

"Yours is not to reason why, nor to argue," the woman answered coldly. "Send word to the others that the time has come, then begin the operation. This should be most entertaining…"

"Gotcha, boss."

And the voice left. The woman lowered her opera glasses, the moonlight glistening in her own steely blue eyes.

"And now," she whispered to herself. "It's time to see just how good a gumshoe you are, Detective…"

Blissfully unaware of the designs against him, Batman let out a short sigh through his nose.

"I may leave in a moment to check elsewhere," he said to Alfred.

"Is that wise, Master Bruce?

"It's Gotham, there's bound to be other things I'm overlooking, focused on this. I can come back in-"

He froze and stopped as he spotted a red Sedan suddenly pull up around the museum; the watchmen immediately looked at the car in curiosity as it steadily drove to the front of the building.

"...Hold on…"

"Catwoman?"

"No...but there's definitely something happening now. I'll call you back in a bit."

So saying, Batman turned off his cowl communicator and set his sights on the Sedan...

Down on the ground, the two watchmen scowled as the car's front passenger door opened, and a most peculiar figure stepped out indeed. He was a burly, broad-shouldered man with abnormally pale skin and sunken brown eyes, with a crooked nose and a scar across his left cheek. Over his lips was a sleazy-looking black moustache, and the black hair beneath his matching fedora was greased slick. He wore a black-and-white pinstriped zoot suit, with a red rose stuck in one lapel, and wore - strangely - orange gloves. Altogther, he looked like a particularly colorful gangster of the Prohibition era...and even in a place like Gotham City, that was a look that immediately stood out.

"I'm guessin' that visitin' hours are over?" the man said in a gruff yet oily voice as he approached the door.

"Back off, buddy," one of the watchmen snapped. "Museum's closed."

"Now, dere ain't no call t'get upset," the man smirked, and reached into his coat…

The two guards immediately went for their stun guns...then stopped, frozen solid, when the man pulled HIS weapon of choice out.

An old-fashioned bug sprayer.

"...What the…?"

"After all," the man went on to the flabbergasted guards. "I'd hate t'bug anybody…"

FSSS!

The man forced down the lever on the spray gun, and a cloud of yellow-green gas engulfed the night guards' faces. The men coughed violently, fanning their faces and clutching their chests, and after stumbling a bit fell to the ground with a groan.

The man in the pinstriped suit gave a smug, proud smile and shouldered his sprayer like a Tommy gun.

"You twos have a nice li'l nap," he cackled, then looked back over his shoulder and waved to the Sedan. "Okay, you mechanical mugs! Let's get crackin' already!"

The other doors on the red Sedan opened...and out of the vehicle stepped - as if things weren't bizarre already - three robots. They were humanoid in shape, but utterly faceless, a single large lamp-like light set in front of their faces, no doubt as an optic sensor, giving them a cyclopian appearance. The "eye" was colored red, which matched the chestplates of the mannequin-like metal men; stenciled onto each chestplate was a stylized letter V, colored black and surrounded by a white circle. While the right arms and both legs on these droids were decidedly human looking, at the end of their left arms, each bore what looked like a large cannon-like weapon. On their backs were glowing green power packs.

"Blow open dat door," the man in the suit ordered to one of the bots. "An' make it snappy, see?"

One of the robots nodded and moved towards the door...but then, all four of the interlopers froze, as a dark shadow, in the shape of a bat, fell over them…

All four looked up...and the man jumped aside with a bark of surprise as Batman sailed down and smashed into the back of the first robot. The mechanical menace fell to the ground, it's power pack destroyed. It twitched, sparked with electricity for a moment...then collapsed in a lifeless heap.

Batman rose to his full height over the destroyed robot and glared at the man who carried the spray gun. The other bots lowered into crouched fighting positions as the man sneered at the Caped Crusader.

"You mus' be the stinkin' Bat everyone talks about!" the man spat.

"You have one chance to surrender."

"Ferget it!" snorted the gruff man. "It's gonna take more dan a fancy cape t'scare Buggs Zapper!"

The man snapped his gloved fingers and then gestured towards Batman.

"Take 'im down!"

Immediately, both of the bots lifted their cannon arms. The weapons charged, and two orbs of green energy blasted towards the Dark Knight. The vigilante ducked down to avoid being hit and hurled a batarang at one of the bots.

The droid took the batarang in the arm, its energy blaster immediately deactivated. The Dark Knight then sprinted forward and flipped over the robot...tearing out its power pack as he did.

As the second bot fell, Buggs Zapper suddenly hurried over and clubbed Batman with his sprayer from behind. The Caped Crusader stumbled forward, and the remaining droid once again prepared to fire. Batman, realizing he stood between the oddly-dressed villain and the well-armed robot, thought quickly and dove to one side just as the bot fired.

"GAH!" exclaimed Buggs as the green orb hit him...and immediately expanded, forming an energy aura around him. He growled and pushed at the green sphere that surrounded him, as if caught inside some sort of laser prison. "Ya slipshot mongoloid! Aim fer the frickin' Bat, not me!"

The robot began to do just that. But Batman then dropped and kicked the mechanical enemy's feet out from under it. It hit the ground face first; before it could push itself back up, Batman was upon it, and promptly destroyed the power pack with a well-placed punch.

With the third and final robot taken out of the running, the green aura surrounding Buggs Zapper promptly disappeared, and the old-timey thug grunted as he fell onto the ground. Batman pounced upon the thug, knocking away his spray gun, and promptly handcuffed him to a nearby fire hydrant.

"Lemme go, ya chunk-faced goon!" Buggs Zapper snapped, struggling to try and break free of the batcuffs, only to find they only grew tighter the more he fought. "Yer not takin' me t'the clink!"

"I'll leave that honor to the police. Looks like the jig is up for you."

"Oh, ya think yer real smart, don'tcha?" snarled Buggs.

Just then, from behind Batman's back, he heard the sound of slow applause and a soft chuckle

"Yes, Buggs," came a new voice. "I think he does."

Batman turned around fast. Before him stood a tall, slender woman, with long, curly auburn hair that fell a little past her shoulders. She was dressed in a red trenchcoat with a high collar, and a matching red fedora with a floppy brim and a black silk hatband. Her clapping hands wore black gloves, and beneath the trenchcoat he clearly saw she wore a black catsuit. Her face was obscured in the dark, scarlet-tinted night, shadowed between herhat, her coat collar, and the curls of her hair...but the detective could make out light mocha colored skin, a single steely blue eye (the other was hidden from him), and ruby red lips that were curved upwards in a sly, almost seductive smile.

"Bravo, Detective," the Lady in Red said in a husky, slightly sibilant voice. "I can see the rumors of your strength are not at all exaggerated."

Batman narrowed his eyes...and before the woman could speak another word, he lunged, and grabbed her by one wrist.

The Lady in Red didn't even flinch, the one eye he could make out in the shadow's unblinking as the moonlight glinted off her ruby-studded earrings.

"Who are you?"

"Now there's a unique question," the woman purred smoothly. "Most people are wondering where I am. Not to worry; you'll be among them soon enough."

"I doubt it. Whatever game you're playing, it ends here and now."

"On the contrary. My game has only just begun. Observe!"

The Lady in Red lifted her free hand and snapped her gloved fingers.

CRASHK!

Batman whipped around again, and immediately spotted a distant figure in a labcoat, flying out of the museum skylight on a jetpack...and holding the statue of Bast in their hand.

Batman narrowed his eyes, releasing the Lady in Red as he reached for his grappling gun. He aimed it at the distant figure and fired. The hooked line sailed upward, ready to latch onto the perpetrator's ankle…

SCHLINK!

...Then a batarang sliced through the line.

Batman gaped in surprise as his grappling line was broken, and the jetpack-wearing thief flew behind another building and vanished from sight. The batrang came spinning back again, and the Dark Knight ducked, looking over his shoulder as it flew over his head, nearly clipping his ears…

...And was deftly caught by the Lady in Red...whose hand was out the open window of the red Sedan. He saw her smirk in the rearview mirror as she retracted her arm and started the car.

"You should keep better track of your toys, Detective!" the woman sang out. "I picked your belt pockets easily! See you next crime! Catch me if you can!"

And with a rush and a roar, the car sped away, leaving Batman standing alone before the museum. He watched the vehicle vanish into the night with a stern scowl...then turned to glance over his shoulder as he heard Buggs Zapper chuckle softly.

"What's so funny?"

"Start o' da game," snickered Buggs with a crooked smile. "Score: World's Greatest Thief, One. World's Greatest Detective, Zero."

"I caught you."

"Maybe," shrugged Buggs, unperturbed. "But yer never gonna catch _Carmen Sandiego."_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter II: Initiative Responses**

"This is Vicki Vale for Gotham Central News at Nine. And now, for starters, everyone's favorite subject in our fair city: Crime & Scandal. Last night, at a quarter past midnight, police were called by an anonymous person to the Gotham Natural History Museum. At the front of the Museum, police found a surprise waiting for them: the remains of three robots, and international criminal Buggs Zapper. Zapper - a notorious thief and former mobster from Chicago, Illinois - is a known agent of the criminal organization known as VILE: an international network of robbers, blackmailers, and spies all under the thumb of one Carmen Sandiego. The robots found alongside Zapper have been referred to as 'VILE-Bots' by Sandiego and her henchmen.

"It is believed that the Batman is responsible for the apprehension of Zapper and the destruction of the VILE-Bots, but police have been hesitant to give further details. At the scene of the crime, not only were the night watchmen found unconscious, apparently taken out via a knockout spray, but it was discovered that either Sandiego or one of her associates had successfully stolen the Statue of Bast on display at the museum, without setting off the alarm.

"For those unaware, Carmen Sandiego and her organization VILE are widely considered among the most elusive and often strange criminals in the world. To this date, no one has been able to apprehend Sandiego, or uncover the secret headquarters of VILE, despite ten years of searching and detective work all over the globe. Little is known of Sandiego's past, and much of it is classfied; GCN is not at liberty to reveal anything here and now, but one thing can be stated: it appears the World's Greatest Thief has decided to bring her own brand of villainy to Gotham City, and with a genius level IQ on record, it is entirely possible she may be The Smartest Criminal in the World. The GCPD have given their word to catch Carmen Sandiego soon...but given both her elusive reputation, and the many failures of our police department in the past...personally, this reporter holds very little hope.

"In other news, another breakout at Arkham Asylum! Only a month after Edward Nygma, the Riddler, mysteriously disappeared from his cell, the Joker himself is now loose once again! Police warn citizens - as if they needed much reminder - of the danger these so-called 'supercriminals' and clinically insane crooks pose to the populace, and advise them to take caution. And with crime thankfully concluded for the moment, we turn to Sports! Back to you, Jack…"

Reports like this filled the papers and every news network in Gotham. Just about everyone in the city saw this piece of news, in some form or another.

For the sake of brevity, we focus on six particular players...

* * *

Just beyond Gotham Bay, joined to the city by a wide, long bridge, Stood a huge, round building. It was jagged and covered in huge towers of artificial ice, giving it the appearance of a giant iceberg; it was hard to tell if the building was built around this "iceberg," or if the "ice" was carved around the building. Bright lights flashed and a huge neon sign at the front - which showed an image of an anthropomorphic Penguin, wearing a top hat, which would tip said hat at regular intervals to patrons - identified the place as "The Iceberg Lounge."

Inside the lounge, the lighting was primarily blue tinted; it was a ritzy nightclub indeed, with a huge stage in the center, positioned on another artificial iceberg, floating in a large "moat" filled with seals. Jazzy music was the specialty of the evening, courtesy of the house band, and those who weren't dining on exotic dishes and sipping the finest alcohol their tastebuds could ever hope for were dancing to the tune.

In an office, overlooking this main floor, a short, portly man sat in a huge, fancy armchair. His black hair, which was beginning to gray at the sides, was neatly combed and slicked back. On a clothing rack nearby was hung a huge black coat with polar bear fur lining the edges, and purple silk lining the interior, along with a black silk top hat with a purple ribbon hatband, and a black umbrella. The man himself currently wore a black vest and trousers, along with black shoes that had stark white spats, and a white dress shirt, all capped off with a dark purple tie, and a monocle which was perched over one of his piercing black eyes. All this finery did nothing to especially make him more pleasant in appearance; aside from his stout, stunted frame - standing at just barely four feet tall - the short man also had a long, beaky nose, and, most peculiar of all, deformed hands with only three chubby digits: a thumb, a forefinger, and the other three fingers fused together to create a "flipper." These twisted hands were covered by white kid gloves, and perched carefully in this hand was a shiny black cigarette holder, the smoke creating a thin wreath around the grotesque fellow's head.

The man in question often took his time simply and quietly staring out the window in his office at the floor show below, simply and quietly watching the people who visited mill about with a strange sense of empowerment and self-satisfaction...but today, he he sighed out the smoke from his cigarette as he pored over paperwork from a recent "back door" deal and glared up at the television set in his office as that wretched Vale woman prattled on.

"Eagle Eye," groaned Penguin, "Would you be so good as to silence that senseless and super-sensationalized stupidity? I can't hear myself think."

"Sure thing, Mr. Cobblepot," the only other person in the room - a young lady in a derby hat and black-and-white form-fitting suit - nodded, and lifted the remote control, cutting off the report.

"Thank you," Penguin smiled at his bodyguard, and then returned to his work quietly.

"You're not worried about that...Sanfrancisco lady, or whatever, are you?"

"Sandiego," corrected Oswald Cobblepot, without looking up. "And not in the least. I've been aware of VILE for years, and have yet to see them interfere with my own organization. As long as Miss Sandiego keeps her mitts off my own property, I see no cause for alarm. Yet."

"I guess that's fair," shrugged Eagle Eye. "Besides, from what I understand, her specialty is museums."

"Indeed," Penguin nodded. "What did she steal again, did you hear? I honestly was too engrossed with this to pay full attention; it is difficult to multi-task nowadays...so much to do, so little time…"

"A statue of a cat from the Natural History Museum, I think."

Penguin froze...and slowly looked up again.

"Do you mean the sculpture of Bast donated to the museum by the Egyptian Ambassador?"

"I guess…"

Penguin turned away again, took a thoughtful drag from his cigarette...then snorted, a puff of smoke exiting his nostrils as he he did, shaking his head and turning his attention back to his work.

"Unlikely," he mumbled to himself.

"Unlikely, sir?"

"Forget it, Eagle Eye. Also, I believe your shift is over...tell Mockingjay she can take your place, and say hello to your kids for me. If I don't get these issues sorted out, I'll have to deal with Rupert Thorne."

"You're not afraid of HIM, are you?"

"Afraid? Not in the least. But I make it a point to avoid conflict...unless there's something to be gained," smirked Penguin. "Now go, please."

Eagle Eye nodded, and promptly marched off to tell the next of Penguin's guard molls that she could handle the next few hours. She wondered how Mockingjay's boyfriend was doing...the irony of her seeing a lawyer made the young woman smile.

* * *

Elsewhere, in an uptown apartment - where a blonde wig, a makeup kit, and other disguise paraphernalia sat in a corner - a slim, buxom woman in a black pantsuit, with short ebony hair and jade green eyes growled like an angry wildcat as she switched off her own television...then, still frustrated, she hurled the remote control at it before sinking into the couch with a snarl.

Selina Kyle - renting her current room under the name "Felicia Haughton" - was absolutely livid. She'd had her eye on the sculpture of Bast from the moment it was announced it would be arriving in Gotham. She'd planned to steal it the following night; she knew Bruce too well. She knew he'd be watching the first night, watching like a hawk, there was almost no way she could have gotten away with it single-handedly.

And while the thrill of the chase was always enticing...impossibility was another thing. It was better to give Batman false hope and then swipe the rug out from under his feet.

But nope! Now some upstart - some woman she'd never heard of, never seen, and yet was being touted as "The World's Greatest Thief" - had snatched it before she could even get a good look at it!

Selina sighed; her pet cat Isis, a black Oriental Shorthair with eyes the same dazzling green shade as her owner's, eyed her mistress sympathetically and crept over, nuzzling against her human's leg and purring comfortingly. Selina looked down, smiled, and picked Isis up, placing her in her lap as she stroked her gently.

"I'm all right, darling," she said softly. "I'm just...aggravated. If anyone is the greatest thief in Gotham City, it's me. No one robs Catwoman's rightful prize, steals her thunder, and gets away with it; no one takes away the fun of the ride for me…"

She glanced towards her partially open closet...and smirked coldly.

"...Without paying a price."

Isis seemed to smile right alongside her mistress, and meowed as she nuzzled against Selina Kyle's attractive fingers.

"Tonight we'll prowl for new prey," Catwoman murmured, nodding to herself, then relaxing back as she stroked Isis quietly. "The target's name...Carmen Sandiego."

* * *

Gotham City is home to many abandoned places. At the edge of Gotham, one such abandoned place had become the quiet getaway of another familiar face. The spot was a long-abandoned schoolhouse, which had miraculously never been condemned, in the historic district of the city.

The schoolhouse had once been a bastion of education and fun; now it was an occasional tourist attraction. There was a storm cellar, but it had been locked for decades, and not even the workers of the historic region ever entered.

It was these very qualities that attracted one particular criminal.

If one were to walk in on him, the first they would have noticed was that he had soundproofed the old cellar from the inside, and cleaned up the long-disused spot quite nicely into a small, underground apartment of sorts. The lighting was kept purposefully dim, giving the room a haunted sort of feeling, long shadows cast over everything. The walls were lined with crossword puzzles, cryptograms, paper mazes, and scores upon scores of green notecards with riddles - from the amusing to the mind-bending - scrawled untidily upon them.

In an old wooden chair, the denizen of this eerie underground spot sat calmly reading through a book of Greek Mythology - he was currently focused the tale of Theseus in the labyrinth of the Minotaur - when his attention was grabbed by the news report.

Upon hearing the words _"Smartest Criminal In the World,"_ the man slowly looked up from behind the book, two brown eyes glittering like smoldering embers as he eyed the television screen with a look that was somehow both intensely bored and intensely irritated.

"Riddle Me This," he mumbled to himself, "What did the prisoner who was about to be hanged say when he was pardoned at the last minute?"

The man reached to the side of his chair...and picked up a long, golden cane in the shape of a giant question mark. He aimed the rounded sphere of the ferrule at the screen, aiming straight for Vicki Vale's forehead.

"Answer: No Noose is Good Noose."

And with a shrill giggle, he pulled the hidden trigger.

BANG!

* * *

CRASHK!

A bullet destroyed the television set of another familiar face in another abandoned place. It was the ticket office of a long-abandoned boardwalk carnival, even further out from Gotham City. All around beyond the ticket office, skeletal rides and dilapidated game booths creaked in the breeze that blew over the great lake on which the old boardwalk sat. All was silent and still...until the one who now called this place home snarled as he pulled back the pistol he had fired at his T.V., shattering the screen.

The figure was a tall, thin, limber man in perhaps the most bizarre costume of all. He wore a purple tailcoat, velvet gloves, and trousers, the lattermost pinstriped with black. Upon his feet were shiny black shoes, which seemed a size too large for him, and were topped with spats. A collared green shirt was covered by a frilly-edged orange vest with gold buttons, and a black string tie was draped about the slender throat of the man.

All this was topped off by his face: it was somehow both ghastly and yet comical to behold. It was a lean, long, bony face, with high cheekbones and a lantern jaw. The skin was bleached a chalky white, save for the lips, which were colored a deep blood red. Wild, curly hair, styled as if to look like the horns of the Devil himself - elegant yet flamboyant - sprouted from the scalp; it was colored as green as grass. Two violet eyes glared daggers at the television screen for a moment as the clown-like figure twirled the pistol theatrically, and blew some smoke away.

"Listen, missy," the Joker said, imitating Clint Eastwood in a cowboy movie, "We don't take kindly t'such words 'round dese here parts."

With a haughty sniff, the Joker tossed his gun away, sending it carelessly clattering across the ground, and adjusted his vest, before turning to his audience: an array of wax figures he'd found at the wax museum at the old carnival: a gallery of famous clowns. Many of them were in poor condition.

"I ask you, gentlemen," the Joker declared, lifting a finger emphatically. "Who in the World is Carmen Sandiego?"

He paused impressively, drinking in the dead silence, and nodded stiffly.

"That's right! Absolutely no one! Not when compared to the Harlequin of Hate...of course, meaning _moi."_

He marched over and leaned to look one of the wax figures - a figure of the pantomime clown from "The Howdy Doody Show"- in the eye...and it really was "the eye" as the mannequin had only one eye left after years and years of isolation.

"Tell me, Clarabell, what right does some floppy-hat-wearing dame in a fancy coat have to steal the spotlight from the Clown Prince of Crime?"

The clown didn't answer.

"Oh. Right. You can't talk. Very well, then...Bozo, old bean!" he boomed, rounding on another figure - this one of Bozo the Clown, and missing an arm. "What have you got to say on the matter?"

The mannequin said nothing.

"Perfectly correct! Ting-ting-ting, give Bozey-boy a prize!" grinned the Joker, clapping his hands. "The answer is: NONE. After all, who has given more hours of amusement and frivolity to the Good People of Gotham than Yours Truly?"

He abruptly pointed at a wax figure of Red Skelton in his hobo clown makeup.

"You don't count, Freddie! You're dead!"

The figures all remained silent.

"Precisely! And yet upon the dawn of my latest escape from Ark-Hammy, what does this Ace of Knaves find? Some stranger, some intruder, some DOLLFACED FOOL cutting in over MY news report! Being hailed as 'the world's greatest thief,' and blah blah blah, yadda yadda yadda, HA HA HA _**THE NERVE!"**_

With a snarl, he abruptly kicked one of the figurines over. A figure of the clown mascot from Sugar Smacks fell to the floor...and promptly lost its head. The Joker blinked...then giggled and waved a hand in an apologetic gesture.

"Whoops! Heh heh...sorry, Paul! You're right, though, I shouldn't lose my head about it...GET IT?! LOSE MY HEAD?! BAH-HA HA HA HA HA HA!"

The Joker slapped his knee and cackled for a few moments, his shrill, grating laugh changing to psychotic giggles as he wiped his eyes of some tears.

"Ohh, that gets me every time...AHEM! But seriously now, my fellow pasty-faces," he said, standing tall and proud, as if addressing congress itself. "If our fair city is so quick to disregard the return of their most beloved and talented Comedian of Crookery from his brief respite in the Sanehouse, then maybe we should see about organizing a proper Return Home Party! I deserve, nay, DEMAND the proper recognition and respect I have earned! For anyone can wear a trenchcoat and rob a museum, but only ONE can do it the RIGHT WAY. And That. Is. Me!"

So saying, the Joker immediately bowed in an elegant, theatrical manner to the panel of wax clowns.

"Thank you, thank you, you are too, too kind! Ho Ho HO Ho Ho HA HA!"

The Jaded Jester's peals of mirth were silenced when he noticed a newspaper he had placed in the hands of a dummy in the shape of Lou Jacobs. However, the Clown Prince of Chaos seemed to eye both the dummy and the paper as if this was new to him, and promptly sauntered over and snatched the paper out of the mannequin's hand.

"Give me that, Louie!" he snapped. "You know the rules: nobody reads the paper till AFTER I've read the funnies! They're usually the only thing worth reading if I'm not-"

He trailed off...his eyes lighted on a particular headline...and he grinned slowly but surely, huge, sparkling white teeth on full display.

"My, my...Lou, you naughty, naughty boy!"

With a snicker, the Joker patted the mannequin on its capped head.

"Bravo to you...you've just provided me with the perfect opportunity! Come tonight," he declared waving the paper in the air, "Gotham will remember who the REAL Numero Uno in crime is...and if they're lucky, I may actually NOT kill anybody!"

He giggled.

"Maybe. Depends on the mood. Actually, let's take a vote on it? RAISE YOUR HANDS IF YOU'RE IN FAVOR OF ME KILLING PEOPLE!"

None of the mannequins moved. The Joker paused...the huffed and pouted childishly.

"Oh, whatever, you bunch of spoiled sports...Ronald McDonald would have said yes; seriously, people say I'M a mass murderer…"

* * *

While sinister plans and sinister thoughts filled the minds and hearts of many...elsewhere in Gotham, one brain paid no mind at all to the four villains who had seen that report that morning.

Bruce Wayne sat in his favorite recliner, dressed in a black and red robe, sipping coffee as he watched the news report. His stormy eyes narrowed as he saw the image of Carmen Sandiego - tipping her hat to whoever had taken the picture, no doubt seconds before evading capture again - appeared on the screen.

"I trust Miss Vale's natural charisma is far from your motivation for actually being in the land of the living, sir?" came the snarky English voice from behind him as Alfred Pennyworth entered the room: a rail-thin man who walked as briskly as he spoke, his silver hair and pencil moustache showing his age, though the refinement and energy of his expressions and movements made it clear he was far from infirm.

"Carmen Isabella Sandiego," Bruce Wayne said, as if reciting from a textbook. "Former member of the ACME Detective Agency; an international law enforcement operation. Her origins are a mystery, her motivations often moreso. The Most Elusive Woman in the World."

"She certainly sounds interesting," Alfred smirked.

"She's a genius," Bruce sighed. "Literally. An IQ higher than even some rocket scientists; no one is sure why she retired from detective work...but only a few years after doing so, she resurfaced not as a private agent, but the head of a global crime syndicate, the expanse of which has still yet to be determined. Thieves, extortionists, and espionage specialists are all just the tip of the iceberg."

"I understand she has a penchant for particularly valuable and rare items," Alfred remarked, lifting the coffee pot and refilling Bruce's tea. "Especially those with a cultural or historical bent; antiques and ancient artifacts."

"Some thieves rob banks of money," Bruce muttered. "Once she just decided to steal the entire bank."

Alfred shook his head.

"And now this woman of implausible skill is loose in Gotham City...as if we didn't have enough problems with the Joker, the Riddler, and who knows how many others on the prowl."

"That's the most concerning part," Bruce growled, taking another sip before continuing. "She took one item, Alfred. She could have taken anything in that museum...had she the time and ability, she could have taken the museum itself. She chose the Egyptian Sculpture. Nothing else."

He put down the cup and then stood up, licking his lips for a moment before beginning to pace thoughtfully.

"Furthermore, she knows me. And not in the way the rest of the world does...I...I feel as if I'M the target, Alfred. She knew I'd be there. Buggs Zapper and those VILE-Bots were a distraction so I wouldn't get in on her real crime."

"How DID she pull it off, sir?"

"Floor grates. Whoever or whatever helped her, they simply got in under the floor, where there was no alarm. They then used a device to silence the security measures and a glass cutter to get the statue out quietly. Once they had it, there was no reason to keep quiet anymore…"

"Hence the exit through the skylight," nodded Alfred. "A thief who WANTS to make her presence known, but doesn't want to be caught…a puzzle if I ever saw one."

Bruce grunted.

"Well, perhaps tonight you'll be able to refresh yourself on the matter, sir," Alfred smiled helpfully, and handed Bruce the newspaper for the day. "You're expected elsewhere, you know…"

Bruce sighed grimly, almost irritably, as he opened the paper to a specific article.

_"Annual Children's Toy Fair Begins Tonight!"_ it read. _"Head of Wayne Enterprises, Bruce Wayne, expected to make an appearance as representative of the Gotham Children's Museum."_

"Who opens a toy fair at night?" he groused. "Don't the kids need to be in school; get to bed early?"

"It's a Friday, Master Bruce," Alfred answered crisply. "And if the parenting in this city were better, your 'night job' would be decidedly more easy."

Bruce nodded...then scowled thoughtfully.

"...Toys…"

"Sir?"

"Last night," Bruce began, "When Carmen Sandiego stole my batarang, she told me I should take better care of my 'toys.'"

Alfred blinked. He glanced from the paper, back up at Bruce.

"You think that she was giving you a hint, Master Bruce?"

"I think we should have my 'other suit' prepared and ready to put on at a moment's notice," Bruce answered darkly. "I'm not taking any chances with a woman no one on Earth can ever seem to find…"

* * *

In a dark and secretive hideaway, in a place no one could locate, two steely blue eyes watched the news report from under the shadow of a red fedora, as black gloved hands lifted a cup of red wine to a pair of ruby red lips.

"And so the fun begins. I have the statue, Detective...now it's your move. Let's see how long it takes you to put all the pieces together…"

With a soft chuckle, Carmen Sandiego went silent once again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter III: Zwischenzug**

In a place like Gotham City, large events were commonplace, and large crowds equally so, regardless of what said event may be. At Convention Hall, the big night of the annual Gotham Toy Fair had come, and the festivities were in full swing. Exhibitions of new models and ideas were on display, and a few vintage toy vendors were peddling their wares - everything from action figures to model train sets to baby dolls to clockwork marvels were all visible, each more colorful and whimsical than the last. The crowd was, perhaps surprisingly, even more varied: collectors, enthusiasts, children (and their parents), and even representatives of local or nearby toymakers were all in attendance, just to name a few choice sorts.

One would think a Toy Fair would be a place where billionaire Bruce Wayne would seem out of place. However, with people of so many sorts present, from the highest classes to practically the lowest, and considering he was a representative of the Children's Museum, and a sponsor for Convention Hall, he was not quite as odd a fellow to be seen as one might think.

However, as he stepped out of his silver Lamborghini and made his way through the a private area of the parking garage, with Alfred at his side, that didn't mean he didn't FEEL out of place. Bruce Wayne brushed a stray black hair away from his face, and adjusted the tie of his formal dark gray suit.

"A Batsuit is in the locker room of the Hall, sir; preset for your disposal, should you require it," Alfred said, as crisp as ever.

"Hopefully I won't need it," Bruce nodded.

"I hope the same thing every day," Alfred muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing, sir, nothing," Alfred answered, shaking his head, and straightening his back. "Now, I know how difficult it is for you, sir, but I WOULD recommend smiling once we are upstairs."

Bruce sighed, reached into his coat pocket, and pulled out a single index card; notes for his speech. He planned it to be a short one.

Very short.

Pocketing the card, Bruce Wayne nodded to Alfred and tapped the side of his head; stuck in one ear was what looked like a Bluetooth device.

"I'll be in touch," he said.

Alfred nodded back.

"I won't be far."

Without another word between them, Bruce left the side of the car and walked through the parking garage. It was no time at all before he left the private, quiet area...and promptly encountered a horde of photographers and young ladies.

He repressed the urge to sigh.

_Here we go…_

The philanthropist forced his most charming, sparkling smile onto his face as he heard his name being screamed at him from every side; he chuckled and lifted his hands in a placating gesture.

"One at a time, please, one at a time!" he laughed in a jovial manner, and the loud roar of the paparazzi and fangirl squealing dimmed. "Thank you very much for this welcoming committee."

"Mr. Wayne!" a photo reporter called out. "What sort of surprise does the Children's Museum have to cap off the festivities tonight?"

"That would be telling," Bruce smirked teasingly. "I can tell you this much: a special exhibit of rare foreign toys, directly from the museum, will be on display tonight. What those toys are, however...well, that's for me to know, Mr. Knox, and you to find out."

Knox, the reporter, rolled his eyes.

Among the throngs of giggling young women, a young lady approached Bruce who stood out from the rest: a teenaged girl with huge, doe-like eyes, and shoulder-length blonde hair. She was dressed in a green jacket and skirt, as well as a pink blouse and old-fashioned saddle shoes; a golden heart-shaped locket was around her throat.

"Mr. Wayne?" the young woman began, in a polite, timid voice, offering a small red autograph journal to him, "May I please have your signature, if it isn't too much trouble?"

The other young woman all began to cheer and echo her sentiments, bouncing up and down; the blonde-haired teenager blushed and inched back a bit. Bruce smiled indulgently and nodded, taking a pen out of his breast pocket as he moved to accept the girl's notebook. She gave him a sparkling, childlike smile as he scratched his name into the first empty page he found.

"You seem a little old to be interested in dolls," he said quietly, a playful look in his eye.

The young girl smiled a bit more, a twinkle in her eye.

"You're never too old to be young," she said, then giggled softly and bowed her head in a show of thanks as she accepted the book, and then cheerfully skipped away. Bruce watched her go for a few moments, almost thoughtfully...then shook his head and turned to the other young women all desperate to get a signature from Gotham's most eligible bachelor…

* * *

In the locker room area of Convention Hall - where special guests could quite literally hang their hats or change out if needed - a tall, lean fellow hummed cheerily as he coated his face in white greasepaint. He looked forward to events like this; it was very kind of the Convention Board to let him perform at this event! Nothing made him happier than seeing children smile, but perhaps because of that, it seemed harder and harder to get proper work nowadays.

Clowns got such a bad rap, especially in Gotham City.

He shrugged to himself and sighed softly; he supposed it didn't matter too much. This could be his big break; when even folks like Bruce Wayne came, one knew this was QUITE an event! He didn't know what could come of tonight, but he just hoped he'd be able to put a few smiles on people's faces.

Just then, he heard the locker room door open and close. Instinctively, he looked up, ready to greet whoever had arrived...then froze, the unpainted portion of his face turning so pale it seemed to coat itself white, as he gasped in horror at the sight of the figure who entered.

"You!" he exclaimed, backing away against the wall. "I-I know you! I've seen you in the papers! What...wh-wh-what are you doing here? How did you…?"

He trailed off as the figure approached him, one hand upon a flower stuck in their lapel…

"No...no, no, please! PLEASE! DON'T HURT ME! I'M JUST-!"

FSSS!

A cloud of purple mist fell over the man's face. He coughed a few times...then, slowly but surely...he started to chuckle...the chuckle became a giggle...and the giggle escalated to a roaring, rollicking laugh, which lasted for several seconds before, gasping for air the man fell to the floor...and moments later passed out...his eyes bugging out of his skull, as his face was contorted into a maniacal grin.

The other figure chuckled, crouching down and playfully patting the innocent clown on the cheek, then rose and opened the man's duffle bag, pulling out the colorful costume within…and singing to himself...

_"Vesti la giubba e la faccia infarina…"_

* * *

Some time later, Bruce Wayne wandered through the rows of displays and vendor's booths at the Toy Fair. His periwinkle eyes peered through the throngs of the crowd around him. Everywhere he turned, he half-expected to see a red fedora or trenchcoat...but if Carmen Sandiego was coming to such a public place, it seemed unlikely she would be here in full regalia. He saw many auburn-haired women, and a few with the same steely blue eyes, but none of them resembled the elusive master thief beyond that.

His earpiece buzzed, and he tapped it.

"Yes, Alfred?"

"I was just wondering if you had caught sight of the lady, Master Bruce."

"Not yet," Bruce sighed. "Perhaps I'm barking up the wrong tree...a toy fair hardly seems like her usual style."

"I thought the same. I've been keeping an ear out for any activity that might seem to fit her better; no such luck yet."

"Mr. Wayne!" called a voice - a convention staff member in thick-lensed glasses. "We're ready!"

Bruce nodded to the man, giving him a smile and holding up a hand in a "be right there" gesture. The man smiled back and walked away.

"I'll call you back, Alfred," Bruce said softly. "If we are lucky, after this, I can go out without incident…"

"Your choice of 'we' is interesting, sir," Alfred responded dryly.

"Keep in touch," Bruce said softly, and hung up before moving towards the small stage and podium where he had been directed.

Unbeknownst to Mr. Wayne, another figure, with violet eyes, green hair, and bone-white flesh, smiled a huge, crimson smile in a corner of the Hall. He was dressed in the black-and-white habiliments of a pierrot clown, as well as a black Venetian half-mask.

The figure chuckled as he watched Bruce Wayne approach the podium.

"Can I have a puppy?" came a chirping little voice only a few feet away. The man turned, and his wild grin softened into a sweet and tender one at the sight of a small boy in a red and blue shirt, smiling back happily as his mother held his hand.

"But of course, sonny-boy!" the Clown declared, and pulled a handful of long, balloons out of his cart. "What color would you like?"

"Orange is my favorite!" the boy chirruped.

The Clown grinned, revealing huge white teeth, nodded, and lifting a finger in a "one moment" gesture, then placed all the balloons but a single long orange one into the cart. He then turned away from the boy...there was the sound of air filling the balloon...then the Clown turned back around, and with a few practiced pulls and twists...created a dog-shaped balloon animal for the child. He then picked up a black marker on his cart and drew a smiling mouth, eyes, and a nose onto the balloon's "face," and handed it to the boy.

"Don't forget to take him on walks, and be careful! He's a real 'airhead,' you know. Ha Ha HA!"

The unsuspecting lad giggled and waved goodbye. The Clown waved back, then smirked as he watched Bruce Wayne once more...never once glancing at the canister of gas he had used to fill the balloon.

The image of a psychotic-looking grin on the container was perhaps a hint that helium was NOT the filling of choice.

The Clown smirked a bit wider, keeping an eye on the many, MANY balloon animals he had handed out to kids, in every color of the rainbow, all over the Hall...

"Ladies and gentlemen," Bruce Wayne said into the microphone. "Years ago, my father, Thomas Wayne, tried his hardest to make sure the children of Gotham could have a better life. They are our future, after all. I lost him at an early age, as all of you are aware, and so for that reason - among others - my childhood was very different from most…"

"Well, for one thing, other kids didn't have a butler!" came the voice of Mr. Knox, who had followed Bruce into the Hall.

Bruce laughed good-naturedly, and so did several others.

"Too true," Bruce smiled, then gestured to a large display covered by an olive-toned tarp. "However, regardless of these facts, I have always believed my father had the right idea. So, I founded the Gotham Children's Museum in his honor; a dedication to childhood and everything that comes with it, where kids could learn and interact about things they'd never seen before, and adults could remember what it was like to be a kid. Childhood is nothing without toys, and the Museum holds some true rarities. For tonight's entertainment and education, on behalf of the Children's Museum, myself and a few others would like to present a special exhibit of vintage toys brought over by early European immigrants of Gotham City. Under this tarp are four exhibits, which I will soon unveil: one the first Rubik's Cubes from Germany, an old Russian nesting doll, a French marionette puppet, depicting a fairy-tale king...and a Jack-in-the-Box depicting the famous Swiss entertainer, Grock the Clown, circa 1943."

As the audience applauded and chuckled at the amusing but simple announcement, the Clown in the corner grinned wider, and reached into his cart...pulling out a remote control device, with a large red button.

"From one famous clown to another, Grocky," he hissed to himself, "I think the atmosphere here needs a little more...excitement…"

He pressed the button.

For a few seconds nothing happened...then…

POP! POP! POP!

Loud pops were heard as balloon animals all over the Convention Center broke, and a purple-tinted gas suddenly began to fill the air. Immediately, people started to panic in confusion and surprise, yelping and yapping like frightened dogs as they inhaled the plum-colored mist…

Bruce Wayne, seeing the commotion, acted fast; he raced off the stage, his face a mask of shock, trying to blend in with the rest of the crowd as he made a beeline for the exit, making a show of putting his hand over his mouth and coughing...while secretly applying a special filter he kept with him at all times…

He barely crossed the threshold when he heard gales of screaming laughter begin to echo behind him. Still wearing the filter mask, he turned on the bluetooth device in his ear.

"Alfred?"

"Has she made her move?"

"Something is happening. But it's not Carmen Sandiego…stay in the garage, and keep an eye out…"

As Bruce Wayne rushed for the locker room, back in the hall, as the purple mist began to clear, people - still giggling like rabid hyenas - were dropping like flies. Men, women, and children alike all fell to the ground...each with the same hideous, bug-eyed, warped grins on their faces.

The Clown - the only person, it seemed, who was unaffected - chortled with joy as he removed his pointed pierrot cap and domino mask.

"Now THAT is what I like to see!" he crowed. "Look at all these happy faces! Just the sort of welcome royalty like myself - the Clown Prince of Crime - deserves!"

The Joker laughed and swaggered through the aisles, moving from the corner as he approached the stage and podium where the tarp-covered display was.

"Now, I'm sure you all can still hear me, and you should really consider yourselves lucky; this particular brand of my patented Joker Venom will only last an hour or two. You'll all go back to living out your usual boring affairs as soon as the effects wear off. Now isn't that nice of me, letting you keep your lives and your personal belongings? Don't be alarmed: I'LL TAKE BOTH NEXT TIME. HOO HOO HO HA HA HA!"

Cackling and hooting with mirth, the Joker ascended the stage and threw off the rest of the pierrot outfit, revealing his usual purple suit beneath. He cleared his throat, adjusted the mic, and held his pointed nose high as he addressed the unconscious "audience" of grinning forms.

"Childhood is nothing without mirth!" he declared. "And as Gotham's Chief of Whimsy and Glee, I hereby decree that any exhibits devoted to such things should be MINE to own! And as the most notable clown of our fair metropolis - not THE Metropolis; baldy has things taken care of there, heh! - I think I shall begin by bringing my compatriot, Grock - My Fellow King of Clowns - home to a place where his talents can be properly appreciated!"

So saying, the Joker strutted over to the display, and with a flourish, tossed away the tarpulin. In one of the glass cases beneath, sure enough, was a colorful (albeit faded and weathered) Jack-in-the-Box; the box itself was covered in a colorful checkerboard pattern, while the figure outside the box was a small cloth puppet on a spring, designed to resemble Grock: dressed in his trademark cap and oversized tweed costume, a painted smile stretched over his face.

The Joker placed a finger to his chin in a show of thought...knelt down before the glass case, and gently knocked on it with his knuckles.

"Knock-Knock! Who's there? Eistile! Eistile who?"

CRASHK!

With a smash of one fist, the Joker shattered the glass, and pulled the Jack-in-the-Box out.

"Eistile what I like! HA HA! Get it?! I steal what I like?!"

The audience remained silent, grinning up at the ceiling morbidly.

"Yeesh...tough crowd," snorted the Joker, and pushed the figure of Grock back into the box gently. Whistling triumphantly, he placed the box under one arm and prepared to leave...

WHUMPH!

"Oof!" the Joker grunted, the toy falling from his hand as he was thrown to the floor by a huge dark form, which pinned him down. The Ace of Knaves growled and glared up...only for his glare to become a sinister smile as he came face-to-cowl with his favorite sparring partner.

"Hello, Joker."

"Ahh, Batsy! And here I thought you were too focused on that silly law-and-order business to worry about a bunch of toys! Did you come here to buy some LEGO figures of yourself?"

The Dark Knight growled, and responded by rising, picking the Joker up by the collar...and hurling him away. The Harlequin of Hate cried at as he was thrown against the nearest wall.

"Ach...ugh...heh heh heh," he cackled quietly, rising unsteadily. "Well, that's a definite no…"

"You're getting sloppy," Batman snarled. "Barely a day out of Arkham...and now you're already going back."

"Me? Sloppy? Not in the least!" the Joker declared, and bowed theatrically. "I'm simply no match at all for your intrepid detective work! In fact...I think you deserve a pat on the back!"

Abruptly, the Joker lunge forward, one hand extended. Batman tried to move away...but the wicked clown managed to grab hold of his shoulder…

...And the hidden joybuzzer sent a surge of elecricity violently coursing through the Caped Crusader's veins.

Batman jolted and groaned, and fell back...and with a menacing laugh, the Joker promptly reared back and gave him a punting kick across the face.

"Ha Ha Ha! NOW who's getting sloppy, Batman?" the Joker snapped, and darted off towards the downed civilians. He reached down towards one of his smiling victims, seeking a weapon.

"Excuse me, I need this for just a minute," he hissed.

Batman rose and wiped one arm across his face, then lowered into a predatory crouch as he faced the Joker, who promptly wheeled around…

...Revealing he was holding a wooden sword, snatched from a small child on the floor. With a shrill giggle, Joker adopted a flamboyant fencing pose, twirling the sword challengingly.

_"En garde, Monsieur Guano-Breath!"_ he called, and wildly swung the heavy wooden sword at his cowled playmate. Batman easily ducked the swipe, and swung back with an uppercut, which caught the Joker square under the chin and sent the clown sprawling, still gripping the sword.

The Joker snarled and hurled the wooden toy like a harpoon from the floor, only for Batman to side-step away and lunge forward. As the evil clown rose, he managed to block a punch from his foe, only for the masked man to catch him off-guard with a knee to the stomach. The villainous jester moaned and doubled-over...then let out a sharp yelp as this was followed by a kick to his back. Batman then hurried forward and grappled with the Joker, forcing his arms behind his back as he tried to handcuff him…

"Ooh, so strong!" Joker spat. "I have to give you a hand for that...in fact, I'll give you two!"

And the Joker suddenly jolted forward...leaving Batman gripping two false hands as the Clown Prince of Chaos promptly broke away and sprinted forward.

"He who laughs and runs away lives to laugh another day!" the Joker sang out, one arm swooping down to snatch up the Jack-in-the-Box he had dropped as he raced for the exit.

For a moment, Batman got ready to chase after his nemesis...then froze, as he realized something the Joker hadn't yet.

The box he was holding wasn't the same one he had dropped earlier. The Jack-in-the-Box of Grock had a checkerboard pattern...the one the wicked clown now held was striped.

Distracted, and realizing he had been fooled, the Dark Knight, turned instinctively…

...Just in time to see a familiar pair of saddle shoes, and the edge of a green jacket, vanish into another exit.

Batman narrowed his blue eyes, glanced in the direction the Joker had fled...then, with an aggravated sigh, went in the opposite direction…

* * *

Moments later, the blonde-haired girl Bruce Wayne had met the other night stepped out through a hatch doorway onto the roof of Convention Hall.

She smiled brightly as she held the real Jack-in-the-Box in her hands.

"I got it, Aunt Carmen!" she almost squeaked, practically prancing over to the person she addressed. "I did just what you told me to! It was even easier than I thought!"

Carmen Sandiego smirked, arms crossed over her chest as she leaned against a satellite dish on Convention Hall, her long hair blowing in the nighttime breeze as it rippled over the edges of her long red coat. About her was slung a large leather satchel.

"Excellent work, Patty," she said, and took the Jack-in-the-Box of Grock from the girl. She hummed thoughtfully as she inspected the bottom of the box for a moment, tilting her head one way and the toy another.

"Are you sure it's the right one?" Patty asked, clasping her hands together hopefully.

Carmen smiled wider, and nodded.

"Yes, this is exactly what I was looking for."

"What a coincidence," came a dark, gravelly voice. "Because you're the one I was looking for."

Patty and Carmen Sandiego looked up...and the teenaged girl let out a yelp of fright and backed away as Batman emerged onto the roof, scowling beneath his mask.

"Ah! You picked up on my little hint!" Carmen congratulated, and placed the toy of Grock into her satchel. "Tell me, did you enjoy our little imitation game?"

"No more clowning around," Batman growled. "It's not often someone plays a joke on the Joker."

"I'll take that as high praise," Carmen sniffed.

"You're playing with matches, Carmen Sandiego. You have no idea just what kind of people you could be-"

"Oh, that's where you're wrong, Detective," Carmen purred. "I know EXACTLY what I'm doing, and I know EXACTLY what sorts of people will take notice. I simply don't care."

"You should start," came yet another new voice.

CRACK!

"Yah!" exclaimed Patty, as a long rope wrapped around her...and she was suddenly yanked off her feet, and cried out as she fell over and banged against a vent.

With a sound like a striking snake, the whip around her unwound itself as Patty groaned and clutched her skull, dazed...and both Carmen Sandiego and Batman looked up.

The former grinned.

The latter nearly groaned.

"Catwoman," both greeted at the same time.

Catwoman glared through the yellow lenses of her goggles, which matched the golden belt around her waist, and the golden claws that tipped her gloves. She was dressed in skintight gray leather, from head to foot, save for her gloves, boots, and the face part of her mask, which were all colored black. She wore black lipstick on her sneering mouth, and snarled like an angry tigress as she flourished her long, dark brown bullwhip.

"I was wondering when I might get the opportunity to meet Gotham's Feline Femme Fatale," Carmen said, pleasantly. "It's an honor."

"The feeling is NOT mutual," Catwoman hissed.

"Selina," Batman began to say, "Don't do anything rash…"

"Forget it, Bats!" spat Catwoman, then turned back to Carmen. "I don't care how smart you think you are, or how famous you may be: Bast was supposed to be MINE. I had EVERYTHING worked out."

"Then perhaps you should have worked faster," Carmen suggested, calmly.

Selina snarled and inches forward...only for Batman to bar her way.

"Selina!" he hissed. "What's gotten into you?"

"I don't like people taking my title or my prize," Catwoman responded, bluntly. "I'm finding that sculpture for my own."

"It belongs to the museum. To the people of Gotham."

"As if you think that could work on me," Catwoman scoffed. "And, for the record...you're letting her get away."

Batman's eyes widened, and he turned around fast...just in time to see Carmen Sandiego jump from the roof of the museum to another rooftop.

He turned fast to address Catwoman...and cried out as she hissed and kicked him in the abdomen. With the Dark Knight momentarily distracted, Catwoman promptly raced after Carmen Sandiego, leaping onto the rooftop and following her at a breakneck speed.

Batman soon recovered and moved forward to try and follow...then paused, and glanced back as he saw the stunned Patty begin to stir.

In a movement like lightning, he crouched down, and hurriedly cuffed the blonde-haired girl to the vent.

"Wh-wha…?" the teen mumbled, and tugged at the cuffs...then sighed dismally. "Awwww, maaaan…"

"Stay here," Batman ordered.

The girl looked up and gave him a rather sheepish look.

"As if I have a choice," Patty answered softly.

Batman rolled his eyes, and without another word, hurried to follow the fleeing thieves across the rooftops.

_Catwoman's angry, Carmen Sandiego is mocking me, and the Joker got away…_

_...This is why I hate going to conventions..._


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter IV: Interference**

Carmen Sandiego bounded up the steep, triangular roof of Gotham City Hall, then gripped her hat in one hand as she slid down the other side. Her feet caught the edge of the roof on the other side, and she promptly hopped up and gripped the next rooftop with both arms.

Carmen clambered up, then, after dusting her coat off, looked to see if she was still being followed. Sure enough, Catwoman came crawling up the crest of City Hall's rooftop, still snarling like a feral wildcat.

Carmen smirked, tipped her hat, and with a flourish of her red trenchcoat dashed away.

Catwoman growled, and slid down the side of the roof on her feet, almost as if she was skiing, then bounced up and quickly followed in her rival's footsteps.

"GET BACK HERE!" she shouted. "YOU CAN'T RUN FOREVER!"

"You'd be surprised!" Carmen called back over her shoulder, in a sing-song sort of way.

A moment later, Batman came over the crest of City Hall, his cape billowing in the wind. He dropped and rolled down the side of the roof, flipping up to grab the edge of the next rooftop before following as fast as he could.

The moon was full and white as ivory; the silhouettes of the three runners were plainly illuminated as they darted and leaped from rooftop to rooftop. Steadily, Catwoman began to gain on Carmen, and just as steadily, Batman was gaining on them both. Finally, Carmen Sandiego vaulted over a large vent cover, only to find the roof ended in a gap much to wide to jump over.

She looked back as Catwoman mimicked the motion and grinned, baring her claws.

"This cat and mouse game is over," she hissed. "I'll make this easy: you just tell me where the statue is now, and we won't have any more trouble."

"As tempting as the offer is," Carmen smirked, "I'm having far too much fun."

So saying, she turned around again, and extended her right arm...and out of her coatsleeve, a grappling line fired. It hooked onto a flagpole, and the Lady in Red glanced back, winked at her opponent, and then swung across the gap, landing like a cat herself on the other side as she snapped the line back into place and jogged off again.

Catwoman snorted.

"Two can play at that game," she muttered, and used her bullwhip to get back on Carmen's trail with ease, following her exact actions.

Batman was right on her heels. He sighed and shook his head.

"Selina plays hard to get sometimes, but this is ridiculous," he muttered.

"If you're cracking jokes, sir," came Alfred's voice in his ear, "Then things must be especially bad right now."

The vigilante chose to ignore that. He pulled his own grappling gun - newly repaired after his previous run-in with Carmen Sandiego - from his utility belt, and soon swung across the gap himself. He rolled once again, this time to catch himself when he landed, then placed the grappling line back into place before taking off after the pair of femme fatales.

A minute or two later, Carmen Sandiego hopped onto a wide rooftop; the roof of the Gotham City Bazaar. Catwoman prepared to follow suit...then, in a flash of inspiration, used her bullwhip to catch onto a tall spire - an antennae of some sort - and swung around…

Carmen stopped dead in her tracks and took two steps back as Catwoman landed in front of her, cracking her whip menacingly.

"The statue," Catwoman growled. "You do NOT want to make me any angrier."

The Lady in Red said nothing; she simply chuckled and lowered into a fighting stance.

The Feline Femme Fatale growled, and promptly snapped out her whip…

And both ladies jumped back as Batman pounced down between them, and grabbed onto the whip's end, before yanking it out of Selina Kyle's grasp.

"Hey!" snapped Selina, nearly tumbling but quickly regaining balance.

"Enough of this," growled Batman. "Get a grip, Selina."

"Ohhh, YOU of ALL people do NOT want to tell me that, Batman," snarled Catwoman viciously. "This is a matter of professional courtesy; no one steals the Catwoman's thunder!"

"I'm adept at stealing many things," Carmen Sandiego spoke up. "Between Elvis' pink cadillac and the Crown Jewels of England, your 'thunder,' Miss Kyle, is hardly my greatest crime ever."

"Just for that," sneered Catwoman, "The first thing I claw out will be your eyes."

"Not tonight," Batman said in a commanding voice, and glared at Carmen Sandiego; he pointed to the satchel containing the toy of Grock. "Return the object. Now."

"Sorry, gumshoe," Carmen purred. "Tonight we're playing by MY rules. You both want me? Come and get me!"

Catwoman needed no further introduction. Before Batman could react, she hissed and leapt over his head, claws outstretched. Carmen Sandiego ducked the flying leap and promptly darted forward, only to run into the Dark Knight. Batman growled and lashed out a kick, which caught Carmen Sandiego in the chest.

The Lady in Red stumbled back a bit, grunted...then grinned.

"Well...not afraid to hit a lady," she murmured.

"He learned from the best," Catwoman piped up, and hurried forward, slashing at Carmen with her diamond-dusted claws.

Like a crimson shadow, Carmen nimbly dodged the attacks, and ducked a kick from Catwoman herself...before snapping out a leg of her own and knocking her opponent back.

Batman swooped into the fray, and hurled two batarangs at Carmen Sandiego, who sidestepped the attack with shocking ease. As the Dark Knight rushed towards her, the scarlet villainess swung a haymaker at him, which was blocked, followed by a spinning-heel kick, which he also dodged.

Just then, Catwoman sprang up again and grabbed Carmen from behind. The Lady in Red let out a hiss through her teeth as she was jerked backwards.

"You're a smart lady," Selina breathed. "So why would you take something cat-related in MY city? Have you not read the papers?"

Carmen grinned toothily, her eyes sparkling in the shadow of her hat.

"You're not looking at the big picture, Miss Kyle," she responded in a velvety voice. "Perhaps you should start trying to."

Carmen stomped on Catwoman's foot. Selina let out a feline yowl...then grunted and stepped back as Carmen broke her arms free and elbowed her rival thief in the stomach.

Holding her hat in one hand and gripping the strap of her satchel in the other, Carmen sprinted forward. Batman jumped forward, arms outspread to try and catch her...but Carmen Sandiego dropped and slid past him, before spinning around as she finally reached the edge of the roof.

"Goodbye for now, Miss Kyle," Carmen said to Catwoman politely. "Perhaps we'll be more sociable, should we meet again in the next of your nine lives. Till then, farewell!"

So saying, the Lady in Red crossed her arms over her chest, lowered her head...and fell back off the roof, her auburn hair whipping about as she did.

Alarmed, both Batman and Catwoman dashed to the edge of the roof…

...Just in time to see the master thief flip mid-air...pull a hidden string somewhere on her person...and activate a set of glider wings, which popped out of her trenchcoat. She caught an updraft, and with a laugh, flew off into the night.

Catwoman sighed irritably.

"Oh, great," she muttered. "Cats can't fly."

"I can," Batman growled. "Stay out of this from now on."

Before Catwoman could respond, the Caped Crusader leapt from the roof...and unfurled his cloak like the wings of a giant, black bat. The "wings" stiffened into a glider themselves, and he flew after Carmen Sandiego.

Catwoman blinked behind her golden goggles...then growled and slammed her fists down on the edge of the rooftop, and yelled a few VERY choice words after the Dark Knight.

He chose to ignore them, staying focused on the fleeing Carmen ahead of him.

"Miss Kyle won't be letting this go easily, you know," came Alfred's voice in his ear.

"I can deal with Selina in due time," Batman responded. "Tonight, the target is a different burglar."

The fedora-wearing woman ahead of him glanced back. In the shadows, her ruby red smile slipped upwards in a sinister fashion. She set her sights on the Gotham Pioneers Tower Bridge, her shadow sailing over the waters of Gotham River as she maneuvered through the air currents...and landed as gently as bird, the glider wings vanishing back into their secret compartment.

Batman landed only a second later, panting a bit as he finally stopped for a breath, glaring daggers at the Lady in Red.

Carmen didn't seem tired at all, simply looking at him almost sympathetically.

"You're persistent, Detective," she said, calmly. "I'll have to give you that."

She then patted the satchel at her side, the bulge formed by the Jack-in-the-Box within quite visible.

"Of course, seeing things through to the end, or at least trying to, is a trait I believe I have, as well."

"I can understand the sculpture of Bast..."

"Do you really think so?"

"...What I cannot comprehend is why you would steal a toy clown, regardless of how valuable."

"Hmm, yes, quite the puzzle, isn't it?" Carmen said, placing a hand to her chin in mock thought, one of her steel blue eyes dancing merrily and mysteriously in the shadows of her hat and coat. "Let's just say it's part of a greater enigma, _mein herr."_

She chuckled, the one eye Batman could make out eyeing him up and down, almost scientifically; he had the unnerving sensation of being studied under a microscope, and remembered how smart his research had told him this woman was…

"Tell me," Carmen started, curiously, and gestured to his costume. "Why do you do this?"

"Someone has to."

Carmen scoffed.

"Please, Detective. Extreme behavior like this, even in your part of the world, is rarer than you think. It's one thing for a man with superhuman strength and the power to fly to don a cape and an acrobat's outfit and go out there helping the helpless. It's quite another for someone who is perfectly mortal, and perfectly normal, all things considered, on a physical level...to engage in your activities."

"Why should I justify myself to you?"

Carmen's smile widened, and almost seemed sad.

"Just tell me this...does it give you a thrill?"

"I do this," Batman said coldly, "Because it must be done. And if you knew how often people tried to get inside my head, you wouldn't bother."

Carmen eyed him for a moment more...then sighed softly.

"Very well. Far be it from me to tell somebody not to keep secrets," she shrugged...and began to step back.

Impulsively, the Dark Knight stepped forward.

"You know," Carmen said, "I used to be a detective myself...but I'm sure you already know that. I was a good one, too...they called me a prodigy. I was a top-of-the-ranks sleuth before I even turned twenty-one."

She tilted her head and stopped.

"Do you want to know why I quit?"

Batman froze, and eyed the Lady in Red expectantly.

Carmen paused...then grinned, and dipped her head down, her eyes now vanishing into the shadows.

"If you do...here's a secret: _everyone does."_

Beneath the cowl, Batman raised an eyebrow.

"Everyone quits, or everyone wonders?"

Carmen did not answer either way.

Just then, the masked man heard the distant sound of police sirens. Momentarily distracted, he glanced back, and saw a far-off squadron of police cars finally heading towards Convention Hall.

He promptly turned back around…

...Only to find that Carmen Sandiego had seemingly vanished into thin air.

"...Ah. So that's what it feels like."

"Sir?" came Alfred's voice again.

"She got away. Again."

"Blast! How did she do it?"

"I'm not sure...but I do know two things. First, this is all part of a grander scheme."

"And second?"

"I know exactly what she's planning next."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter V: Middlegame**

"This is Jack Ryder, Live on GRN - the Gotham Radio News! You all know me; you can tune into my talk show at five today; our guest will be none other than wealthy philanthropist and man about town of New York, Lamont Cranston! However, right now, I'm here to make a few announcements of a less popular variety.

"Late last night, an attack by none other than the Joker himself was halted by Gotham's resident vigilante, Batman. The Joker used a non-lethal, paralyzing brand of his infamous 'Joker Venom' to freeze many of the people in Convention Hall with wild grins; a few escaped unharmed in the panic, and alerted the police. On the roof of the Hall, bound to a vent by 'batcuffs,' they captured Patty Larceny. Little Miss Larceny, who has been referred to as 'the sweetest little international felon you could ever hate to meet,' is yet another agent of VILE, the organization under the thumb of Carmen Sandiego. Larceny confessed that she had, under Sandiego's orders, switched a rare Jack-in-the-Box with the Joker for a false one, and handed the real toy to her employer. Seeing as how she was caught in batcuffs, but there was no sign of Carmen Sandiego, one can presume that the infamous Lady in Red is still loose, along with the Harlequin of Hate.

"When interviewed last night by reporter and photojournalist Alexander Knox - who was among the escaped attendants that called police - Detective Harvey Bullock was quoted as saying, 'just 'cause the Bat can't seem to get his mitts on 'Miss California,' it doesn't mean we won't. At the very least, it's a real laugh that this time, the jokes on the Joker himself-"

"GRRRRRAAAAAAHHHHHRRRRRRRR!"

The radio was abruptly silenced, knocked out of its electrical socket, as a striped Jack-in-the-Box slammed into it. Both the radio and the worthless toy clunked to the floor.

The Jack-in-the-Box was open, and the figure within was one of a familiar, smiling woman in a red coat and fedora.

Tied about the doll's neck was a small card with the words "Fool's Prize" written in red ink.

The Joker snarled and seethed, his hands twitching and his teeth gnashing and grinding together in rage as he breathed heavily, his violet eyes focused on the discarded toy.

"TRICKED!" he roared, hurling his hands into the air and shaking his fists at the ceiling. "PRANKED! CHEATED! LAUGHED AT ACROSS THE CITY! Ohhh, that woman is tangling with the wrong rogue! Nobody outwits the Clown Prince of Crime and lives to tell of it!"

He wheeled and turned to his silent audience of wax clowns.

"Can you believe the nerve of that floppy-hatted dame?! Can somebody tell me when some...some WITCH in a big coat gets all of my press?! As if that isn't enough, she sees fit to pull the ol' switcheroo on me! I'll be the laughingstock of the underworld! TIS CRIMINY! CRIMINY, I SAY! CRIMINY!"

He rounded on a figure of rodeo clown Quail Dobbs.

"WHAT ARE YOU LAUGHIN' AT, BIRD-BRAIN?!"

He kicked the figure over and then whirled around, briskly moving to the ticket window and glaring out.

"I'll get her," he hissed. "By all the Saints of Wicked Mirth, I'LL GET HER! _THE LAST LAUGH WILL STILL BE MINE!"_

* * *

Elsewhere, in the secret sanctum of the Batcave, Bruce Wayne - out of costume and dressed in casual black clothes - thoughtfully scratched the stubble of his chin with one hand, while the other worked the mouse of the Batcomputer, a pensive expression on his face.

_Clip, clap, clip, clap…_

Bruce glanced back over his shoulder as he heard the brisk, familiar footsteps of Alfred Pennyworth behind him. The butler stepped up beside him and placed a tray of food at his side.

"Brunch, sir," Alfred said in a thin, calm voice.

"Thank you," Bruce nodded, but didn't touch his food, eyes fixed on the screen before him.

Alfred raised an eyebrow and glanced up at the screen of the supercomputer. On it was an image of the toy stolen the night before: the Jack-in-the-Box featuring a figure of Grock.

"Of all people, Master Bruce, I should think you would be the last one to research a clown."

"Grock was called the King of Clowns," Bruce answered, once again sounding as if he was reciting lines from memory. "He's a fitting prize for the Joker. But what I can't figure out is why Carmen Sandiego would steal something so...inconsequential."

"A toy worth putting in a museum is hardly 'inconsequential,' sir."

"What I mean," Bruce frowned, "Is it doesn't fit with her usual M.O. This is a woman who once tried to steal the Statue of Liberty, and almost got away with it. A vintage toy - even one featuring the King of Clowns - seems like a shocking step down, especially after she swiped the sculpture of Bast the night before. I know there has to be a connection - she's all but told me there is - but I can't figure out what it could possibly be."

"Perhaps it's not the items, but the characters they depict?"

"I considered that, but that makes even less sense. Bast was the Goddess of many things in Ancient Egypt - she was considered the 'patron saint,' as one might call it now, of womanhood itself, and all that comes with it - but I can't find anything that could even peripherally connect her to a clown. As for Charles Wettach - Grock was his stage name - so far I've discovered he was one of the highest-paid performers in Europe during his lifetime, and was famous for both pantomime and musical performances, all with a comical, clumsy flair. Nothing here suggests any ties to Bast; as far as I can tell, he never even performed in Egypt during his lifetime."

Alfred sighed and shook his head.

"Well, then it seems like a dead end."

"At least for now," Bruce nodded, easing back and steepling his fingers as he pulled up images of both the stolen items, inspecting them side by side. "But that may change soon enough."

"You did say you know what she's going after next...how so?"

"When I encountered Carmen Sandiego last night, she called her switch on the Joker her 'imitation game.' Later, she added the toy and the statue were part of a 'greater enigma,' and even addressed me in German: 'mein herr.'"

Alfred scowled, his own mind putting the pieces together.

"Isn't _Imitation Game_ the name of a recent film about Alan Turing?" he said softly.

"Right," Batman nodded. "The English Intelligence Agent who cracked the German Enigma Machine in World War II."

"And one of those Enigma Machines is here in Gotham," Alfred realized. "They keep it at the Military Science Museum...yet another antiquated caper."

"I've considered perhaps she's planning to rob from every museum in Gotham," Batman nodded, "Since the toy of Grock belonged to the Children's Museum, and the idol of Bast belonged to the Natural History Museum. I doubt it, though; it doesn't seem like her style."

There was a pause.

"Sir?"

"Hm?"

"I heard your...conversation on the bridge last night."

Bruce said nothing.

"You do know she was taunting you, don't you? You mustn't take anything she suggested to heart."

"I'm wiser than that, Alfred."

"...If you say so, sir…"

"She made this one too easy," Bruce murmured, scratching his cheek. "With the toy fair, it was an offhand comment. She was very deliberately driving me for this one. She's goading me. She WANTS me to come after her."

"Am I to presume that she's going to get just what she wants, then?"

"Yes, Alfred. You may presume exactly that."

Alfred turned his head away thoughtfully.

"I...took the liberty of looking into her background, sir."

"I did the same. Carmen Isabella Sandiego was given her name at an orphanage in Chicago, the now-demolished Golden Gate Girls School. She was a prodigy; a mathematical and deductive genius with a love of history and geography, all skills that came in handy when she became a detective. She was still a teenager."

"And as you said before, no one is sure why she went rogue."

"There have been a few suppositions," Batman shrugged. "The Chief of ACME has suggested that she felt she needed greater intellectual challenges. What could be more challenging than pulling off the perfect crime? To her, crime is a game."

"Then perhaps that's all this is," Alfred suggested. "A wild goose chase; a game of cat and mouse."

"Selina suggested the same, though not intentionally. I just can't help but wonder...which of us is the cat, and which of us is the mouse?"

* * *

In the historic district of Gotham, a man switched off the radio and hummed thoughtfully to himself.

Two brown eyes narrowed thoughtfully as a purple glove lifted up to his chin in thought.

"Hmmmm...a golden statue from Egypt...a toy from Switzerland...statue...toy...Egypt...Switzerland…"

He froze.

"Egypt. Switzerland."

A smile spread over the man's face, and he briskly moved to a small bookshelf he kept in his hideaway.

"Riddle Me This," he muttered to himself, as he peered through his books. "An adventurer found a treasure chest guarded by a ghostly pirate. There were three keys, but only one lock. If the man chose the right key, on the first try, he would earn the treasure. If not, the pirate's spirit would drag him down to Hades."

The man pulled out a dusty, leatherbound book, and brushed it off as he moved to a chair and sat down.

"The adventurer's only clue was the pirate's name: Hot Keg Denley. How did he pick the right key?"

There was a pause as the man thumbed through his book...then grinned again as he found the page he needed, and scanned it quietly, the ticking of a nearby clock concentrating his thoughts.

"...The name," he hissed to himself, after several minutes, "Was the words 'the golden key' scrambled. When the man realized this, the rest was easy."

The man in the basement giggled and looked up at the ceiling with a smile.

"I think I've found your golden key, Carmen Sandiego," he muttered. "Come tonight, I'll show you just who is the Smartest Criminal of Them All…"

With another giggle, the man got up, put the book back on the shelf, then danced over to his desk, and picked up a piece of green paper before setting to work writing.

The book he had just looked at was titled, "Urban Legends of Old Gotham City."

* * *

The Bat Signal illuminated the sky, its beam catching on a distant cloud as it projected from the roof of police headquarters.

It was a cold and especially windy night. Commissioner Gordon stood alone on the rooftop of the GCPD building, his hands resolutely stuck in his pockets and his head dipped down in thought. The thick lenses of his glasses hid his eyes in the moon's icy glare, while his bushy moustache dipped down in an expression of worry. His brown coat and short gray hair rustled in the wind.

"Jim?"

He moved his head up but did not turn around as he heard the familiar, modulated growl behind him.

"It's about time you showed up," he chuckled softly. "It's not a warm evening."

"Sorry to keep you waiting," was the dry response...and a moment later, the Batman practically glided into view, walking beside him and then in front of him, his own dark cape whipping about.

Gordon looked his fellow crimefighter up and down for a moment...then smiled slightly.

"You haven't been shaving," he observed.

"Neither have you. I'm sorry. She's not as easy to capture."

"She hasn't hurt anyone," Gordon said with a shake of his head, "Which is more than I can say for most of the crooks in this town. In a way, I'm glad for the distraction...it's just a shame the museums don't share the same feelings."

"What do you need?"

"Only an hour ago, we received a message. I think you should read it."

So saying, Gordon moved one of his hands out of his pockets, and offered a green envelope to the Dark Knight. The masked man took the envelope...and sneered.

Drawn on the green paper was a large, black question mark.

"Riddler."

"Nygma's finally making his move," Gordon nodded. "Guess he was tired of all those reports about the 'new gal on the block,' you might say."

Batman let out a curt puff of breath, and then carefully opened the envelope with a small pen-knife - with a jagged, wing-shaped blade - he kept in his belt. A folded piece of green paper was inside. He unfolded the letter, and read the message aloud.

"Decipher this, soldier: what do you call a cheetah who uses a Xerox machine?"

Gordon raised an eyebrow.

"My daughter could figure that out in first grade," he groused. "It's a copycat."

"Too easy," Batman nodded. "Much too easy. Especially for him."

He promptly handed the message back to Gordon, and then hurried towards the edge of the roof.

"Hey! Wait a second! Where are you going?"

"Assemble a squad of your men," the Caped Crusader answered as he stepped onto the edge of the roof. "Head to the Gotham Military Science Museum. I will meet you there."

"Fine, but do you wanna fill me in on what's going on?"

Batman narrowed his eyes.

"I'll give you the long and short of it, Commissioner: the Riddler and Carmen Sandiego are on a collision course. And both of them want me there."

Gordon's eyes widened behind his glasses.

"If we can surround the place, we could have a chance to catch them both!"

"Precisely."

"I'll get Harvey and Montoya," nodded Gordon, and turned around as he moved to switch off the Bat Signal. "We'll be there as soon as we can. I just hope we won't be…"

He turned around to find the Dark Knight had disappeared.

"...Too late...you know, I'm starting to get sick of that trick…"


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter VI: Overloading**

Five minutes to midnight at the Gotham City Military Science Museum.

Amid displays of machinery parts, intelligence devices, and various weapons, a single display case - only a few feet away from the restrooms - held a seemingly inocuous and clunky-looking device. It was about the size of a laptop computer, or a small suitcase, and appeared to be a modified typewriter, with electrical outlets attached to it, along with labeled wheels, contained inside a wooden box.

This was the Enigma Machine.

Out of each of the restrooms stepped a pair of lowly janitors. They were each dressed in green custodial uniforms, complete with baseball caps. One was tall and thin, with a gaunt, bony face and a sharp, pointed nose; the other was short and round, with a face like a roasted ham in shape and size. Both were pale, with dark green eyes and oily-looking black hair. There was something hollow and empty about the looks in their eyes, and their mouths were set in tight, thin lines as they moved almost robotically about their work.

The two janitors were utterly silent as they left the bathrooms and began to clean around the space surrounding the Enigma Machine case. Once in a while, the fat one would glance up at the security cameras nearby, which audibly whirred and fizzed. There were no physical guards in the museum this evening, but the automated security system had kept most bandits away from the place.

Until now.

DONG...DONG...DONG…!

Both men froze, and the thin man glanced back over his shoulder, ears pricking up. It was Gotham's famous Wayne Memorial Clock Tower, sometimes affectionately called "Big Benjamin" as a joke among the people.

Midnight had arrived.

The two janitors looked at each other...and their hollow-looking eyes narrowed as they nodded to one another.

"Time to clean up," they whispered in unison.

The two pulled a set of washrags out from the pockets of their coveralls, and got down on all fours as if to scrub the floor…

Now with their backs to the cameras, each reached up to their hats to adjust them...and pressed hidden buttons on the brims of their caps.

One by one, the security cameras in the museum began to shut down, visibly going limp on their automated stands.

The two janitors stood up, placed their washcloths back in their pockets, and moved closer to the Enigma Machine's display case.

The short, fat janitor reached into the cleaning cart...and pulled out what looked like a V-shaped adhesive patch. He placed it against the glass carefully, making sure it was firmly attached, and then stepped back.

"Silent Alarm nullified," he grunted.

The thin man responded by removing the handle from his mop...revealing that, at the base of the handle, was a small blade, made of silver and coated with diamond dust.

Using the hidden glass cutter inside the mop handle, the tall custodian carefully cut a rectangular hole in the display case, just large enough to slip the Machine through...and carefully set the cut-out piece of glass on the floor.

"Operation Enigma is nearly complete," he hissed to the other custodian in a business-like tone.

The fat man nodded...then stopped and narrowed his eyes.

"Hey, what's that?"

He pointed to what he meant, and his associate followed his pointing hand, and tilted his head in reaction to what they saw.

Near a floor grate sat what looked like a Rubik's Cube.

The two gave each other a hollow, confused glance, before moving closer to the cube…

"Where did this come from?" mumbled the fat man, as the thin man picked the puzzle up.

_"Question!"_

Both men froze, and glanced around, as a voice seemed to echo around them.

"Who's there?" snapped the thin man.

_"I flash forever down a current, so wild and so untamed...but if you bring me near the river then you just might wind up maimed. What am I?"_

"Show yourself!" both men shouted in response.

_"Answer!" _the voice barked. _"ELECTRICITY!"_

Right on cue, two bolts of electrical energy shot out of two sides of the cube...and struck the two crooked janitors.

ZZZAP!

With a jolt, a shriek, and finally a groan, the two ghoulish custodians crumpled to the ground, and the cube dropped out of their grasp.

No sooner had the pair collapsed in an unconscious heap, then a floor grate opened up...and with a high-pitched giggle, out bounced another man, who promptly scooped up the cube.

The man who stepped out was of average and height and somewhat limber build. He was garbed in an emerald green suit, derby hat, and trousers, underneath which he wore a similar green vest, and a black dress shirt, shoes, and gloves, along with a green formal suit tie.

Attached to the tie was an purple gemstone pin...in the shape of a question mark.

The man grinned, his brown eyes rich as pools of chocolate behind a pair of purple-tinted sunglasses that were perched upon his nose. He stamped his foot down...and out of the still-open floor grate bounced a long, golden cane in the shape of a giant question mark. With a snicker, the man caught it in mid-air, and used his foot to close the grate.

"My thanks to you, gentlemen!" he said, doffing his hat, revealing the short dirty blonde hair beneath it. "You've made this exceptionally easy! Riddle Me This: why was the janitor called to trial? Answer: they said he couldn't clean up his act! HOOHOOHOOHEEHEEHEE!"

With a manic giggle, the Riddler practically danced over to the display case, and used the crook of his cane to shut the Enigma Machine...before pulling it out through the hole in the glass.

"Work smarter, not harder," he smirked, then inspected the box for a moment...and smirked a bit wider as he focused on the bottom part of the machine. His purple glasses glinted in the moonlight that streamed through a nearby window…

...Then, he heard the sound of footsteps, and the smirk once more became a grin.

"Well, well, so the shaved monkey has arrived!" he began, and started to turn his head to look up. "I am surprised it took you-"

The smile was struck from his face as, out of the shadows, stepped not Batman...but a tall, elegant woman in a floppy red hat, who wore a matching trenchcoat over her dark catsuit.

One of Carmen Sandiego's steely blue eyes glittered mysteriously as she smiled a sly, thin smile, quietly rubbing her black-gloved hands together as she leaned against a wall beside the ladies' bathroom.

"I've been called many things," she said in a silky, creamy sort of voice. "But a shaved monkey? That IS a new one."

The Count of Conundrums scowled, and took a step back...as more footsteps were heard. Moments later, three other figures joined her: two of them were a pair of VILE-Bots, identical to those who had assisted Buggs Zapper two nights ago. The third was a woman, about the same height and build as Carmen Sandiego, though clearly at least a few years older. Her hair was light brown, with a long streak of shocking silver down the middle, and was unfashionably barbered in a crew cut. She wore strawberry pink lipstick, and a set of high-tech looking goggles that completely hid her eyes from view. Over a fuschia-colored blouse and a set of kahki pants, she wore a milky white labcoat.

A name tag on the coat identified this second woman as "Dr. Sara Bellum."

"After my incidents with Catwoman and Joker," Carmen purred, "I anticipated you, of all people, might get involved in this caper. So I prepared this little personal greeting in the event my Cleaners failed to complete their mission. I will be taking the Machine now, Mr. E. Nygma."

"Over my dead body!" the Prince of Puzzles spat.

"I wouldn't dream of going that far," shrugged Carmen. "But, if you won't be cooperative...Sara?"

Dr. Bellum smirked, nodded, and reached into her labcoat...pulling out a small device that looked like something out of an old sci-fi film, comprised a strangely-shaped tablet and a small microphone.

"VILE-Bots!" the woman in the labcoat commanded in a thick French accent. "Get him, and get ze Enigma Machine!"

The two robots promptly hurried forward. The Riddler sneered and lifted his cane...then pulled a hidden trigger, firing at the two bots.

PING! PING! PING!

Each bullet bounced off easily. With a growl, the Riddler promptly began to run towards the floor grates…

One of the VILE-Bots lifted its cannon arm, and fired…

"GAH!" exclaimed the Riddler, as a green capture orb surrounded him, and he dropped the Enigma Machine. Sara Bellum twisted a dial on her device...and the Enigma Machine dropped to the floor through a hole that formed in the forcefield, before said forcefield sealed up again.

"Bravo for your quick thinking, Doctor," Carmen congratulated, as one of the VILE-Bots picked up the Enigma Machine and brought it back over to the leader of VILE and her chief scientist.

_"Merci,_ Carmen," Sara Bellum responded, and bowed in a servile manner to her employer.

The Lady in Red smirked as she held the Enigma Machine in one hand and prowled towards the Riddler, placing her other hand on her hip as she looked up at the other villain, who glared back at her hatefully.

"Question, Mr. Nygma: how are you like a bad horoscope? Answer: you are much too easy to predict."

"Oh, really?" Riddler sneered. "Well, here's one for you: how are you like a comedian with a banana peel? Answer: sometime, you're going to slip up."

"Now is not that time, Mr. Nygma," Carmen Sandiego shrugged, and turned her back on the Riddler.

She hadn't gotten three steps before the Riddler called out: "I know what you're planning!"

Carmen paused and looked over her shoulder.

"Do you, now?"

"I don't know the other pieces yet," Riddler warned. "But believe me, I'm going to find out. I already know this one."

The Lady in Red smiled, seemingly unfazed, the one eye the Riddler could see actually lighting up with a hint of something like excitement.

"Good to know," she said, coolly. "But that doesn't change my plans one bit. Indeed, I'd say that just makes the game more interesting."

SCHLINK-SCHLINK!

Both villains jumped, a bit startled...and both grinned wickedly, as the VILE-Bots fell to the floor…

...Each had a batarang in their backs.

Dr. Sara Bellum gasped and stepped back as Batman finally stepped out of the shadows.

With the VILE-Bots destroyed, the orb around the Riddler fizzled out, and he yelped as he dropped to the floor...then sniggered as he used his cane to help get back on his feet.

"Well, it's about time," he taunted.

"Here's a riddle for all of you," Batman droned. "How are you all like a clock at midnight? Answer: because your hands are going straight up. Right. Now."

Sara Bellum gulped and nervously raised her hands...only to quickly lower them again at a gesture from Carmen Sandiego as she smiled challengingly at the Caped Crusader.

"You've had two chances to catch me already, Detective," she said. "Do you really think this third time will be the charm?"

"No. I KNOW it will be."

Promptly, the sound of police sirens echoed out, and the Riddler glanced over his shoulder. His smile fell again as he saw the flashing of police car lights drawing closer.

"The cops! That...that's cheating!" he yelled.

"You'll be surrounded in seconds," the Dark Knight growled. "The chase is finished, Carmen Sandiego."

"And what am I, chopped liver?!" snapped Riddler.

"The chase isn't over till I WANT it to be," Carmen said, calm and collected as ever. "And I'm having far too much fun to throw in the towel yet."

Batman immediately moved forward, cape flaring out as he lunged to grab hold of the elusive master thief...only for Carmen to suddenly lift one arm, as if in a punch…

FSSS!

A cloud of thick, black smoke burst from a hidden compartment in the Miss of Misdemeanors' sleeve, and as Batman swept out an arm to grab hold of her...he found himself clawing at thin air.

He heard the Riddler cough, and glanced towards him. Nygma used his hat and cane to fan away the air, then glared at his nemesis and pointed off in another direction.

"You're letting her go, you Dynamic Dimwit!" he thundered.

Batman turned, and sure enough, saw Carmen Sandiego and Dr. Sara Bellum racing towards another spot in the museum...right under a skylight.

He remembered the Natural History Museum, and immediately realized what was happening.

"STOP!" he roared, and darted forward.

"You're slipping, gumshoe!" Carmen called back. "This was almost too easy! Come on, Sara!"

The Dark Knight reached into his utility belt and hurled a Batrope - a long line with a batarang at the end. Just as Carmen and her mad cohort stopped beneath the skylight, the rope curled around the Lady in Red's right leg.

THOOM! In an instant, a pair of jetpacks sprang out of the coats of both women, and they took off into the air. The Dark Knight gritted his teeth as gravity left him, and he was carried upwards, his ripe tied around Carmen's ankle.

Carmen frowned.

"Nice try, Detective!" she called down. "But this is one ride you're not taking!"

So saying, the Lady in Red twisted around...moving up towards a display of a large jetplane…

THANG!

"Agh!" the Caped Crusader exclaimed as he slammed sternum first into one of the wings, and the Batrope uncoiled.

With a sound of splintering glass, Sara Bellum crashed through the skylight, and Carmen quickly flew after her.

Right at that moment, outside the museum, Commissioner Gordon and Detective Harvey Bullock stepped out of one of two squad cars...and spotted Carmen Sandiego hovering over their heads.

Bullock snarled and reached for his gun...only for Gordon to stall him in his tracks with a wave of one hand.

"Hold your fire!" he howled to his men.

"Tenacious, tough, AND considerate!" Carmen laughed. "You and your Dark Knight Detective are a triple-threat, Commissioner! A pity you don't have it all together yet! _Ciao!"_

With a tip of her hat and a wink of one eye, Carmen Sandiego flew off after Sara Bellum, the Enigma Machine in tow.

Gordon sighed irritably, then turned to his detectives.

"Harvey, call a chopper, see if they can find her in the air," he ordered, sounding doubtful of the fact, then turned to a dark-skinned Hispanic lady to his left. "Montoya? You and three others come with me. The rest wait out here; let no one out of the building besides us or the Batman!"

As the Commissioner and his assistants hurried into the building...inside the museum, Batman glided down to the museum floor with his cape, grinding his teeth in a frustrated snarl as he marched back over to where the Enigma Machine had been kept.

The Riddler still stood there; Edward Nygma sighed and fanned his face with his hat as he leaned against one wall.

"Phew!" he said, and let out a chuckle. "Heh heh...it's been a while since I've had quite that much excitement...what about you, Batman?"

The Dark Knight responded by reaching out and grabbing the quizzical crook by the collar of his coat.

"I've had enough of this!" he nearly shouted. "Catwoman, Joker...and now you, too! I'm done running in circles!"

The Riddler giggled shrilly.

"HEEHEEHOOHOO! Awww, but that's what you're BEST at, my monkey-brained friend!"

Batman slammed the Riddler back-first into a wall.

"You knew she'd be here," he hissed violently. "How? What is she up to?"

"You seem angrier than usual," Riddler chuckled back. "What's the matter, Caped Crusader? Does it frustrate you knowing I've got things figured out before you? Does it bother you that there are criminals superior to your worm-headed intellect?"

"She outwitted you, too, Nygma."

"I'll deal with her eventually," snorted Riddler. "But if even I'M going to need a second chance, what hope do YOU honestly have, my mentally deficient foe?"

"What. Is. She. Up. To?"

"Question: how am I like a canary with laryngitis?"

WHACK!

A punch across the face promptly crashed across the Riddler's face. The Prince of Puzzlers yiped like a kicked hound.

"TELL. ME."

Riddler sneered...and giggled softly.

_"Heeheeheeheehoo._..Answer: _I won't sing," _the Count of Conundrums hissed. "And those pathetic fists of yours can't do anything to change it! This is a riddle you'll just have to solve on your own!"

"Batman!" came Renee Montoya's voice. Momentarily distracted, the Dark Knight turned…

And yowled as the Riddler suddenly lifted the Rubik's Cube, placed against his chest...and sent a surge of electricity through him.

ZZZAP!

"ARGH!" he roared out, and released the Riddler, who giggled psychotically as he raced for the floor grates.

"STOP HIM!" ordered Commissioner Gordon, and Montoya and another officer chased after the green-suited ghoul...only to lose him as he hopped into the floor, and locked the grate behind him. Peals of mad laughter filled the space beneath the museum...then steadily faded into nothing, as the Riddler made his escape.

As Montoya and the officer struggled to try and open the grate to follow the fleeing fiend, the remaining two officers moved towards the still-unconscious Cleaners who lay on the floor. Gordon, meanwhile, approached the Dark Knight, who stood propped against the wall with one arm, his head held down.

"Are you all right?" he asked, carefully.

"No, Jim," Batman snarled back, violently. "I'm not. In three nights, I've allowed three of Gotham's Most Wanted to get away, and all without catching Carmen Sandiego. I've been bruised, shocked, gassed, and made a complete fool of, all while valuable items are being pinched right out from under my nose."

"You HAVE caught some of her henchmen…"

The Caped Crusader gave the Commissioner a cutting look. Gordon stepped back, scratched the back of his head, and shrugged one shoulder.

"Just...looking on the bright side."

"There won't BE a bright side," Batman said. "Not till I finally figure out the big question…"

And with a beastly snarl, he pounded his fist into the wall.

**_"...WHERE IN THE WORLD IS CARMEN SANDIEGO?!"_**


	7. Chapter 7

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** "Meglio Stasera" is a song from the original Pink Panther movie, composed by Henry Mancini and directed by Blake Edwards. I do not own the original song, obviously.

* * *

**Chapter VII: J'adoube**

"For Gotham Live News, this is Summer Gleason. I'm still here at the Gotham Military Science Museum, where a daring nighttime robbery took place while half the city slept. It appears the crafty and nefarious Carmen Sandiego is still at large here in the city, along with her VILE conspirators. Around midnight, she and some of her associates stole an Enigma Machine - one of several used as part of a cipher system from the second World War - which was being housed at the museum. Arrested at the scene of the crime were two of her more notorious henchmen, the Ick Brothers - Rick & Nick - known by some under the alias, 'The Cleaners.' The pair apparently posed as janitorial staff members for the museum and were able to crack through security measures in an inside job. Evidence suggests, however, that Sandiego herself, and at least one other VILE operative were present, and there is even the possibility that the light-fingered Riddler had something to do with his peculiar heist. As far as how close the police are to capturing Carmen Sandiego, or any of Gotham's infamous 'supervillains,' Commissioner Gordon declined to comment. It's a fair bet that the GCPD, and perhaps even Batman, are pondering the same questions on the minds of all Gothamites: Where on Earth is Carmen Sandiego, and where will she strike next?"

CLICK.

Bruce Wayne, once again garbed in his red and black robe and casual clothes, sighed as he turned off the television and slumped back against the armchair in which he sat. He dipped his head a down and massaged his forehead, a brooding scowl upon his face as he closed his stormy blue eyes.

Alfred, who stood beside him, eyed Bruce with a calm, contemplative, and empathetic air.

"You mustn't take it so hard upon yourself, Master Bruce," the butler soothed. "You've faced tougher and far more gruesome cases than this before."

"It's not quite the same this time," Bruce answered. "Carmen Sandiego may not be as dangerous to the public at large as Joker or Riddler, but she's quickly making a mockery of both me and the police department. Trying to catch her is like trying to catch smoke; I'm always a step or two behind her, and right when I get close, she slips through my fingers. Worse yet, because I've been so fixated on her, I'm letting other villains who could prove far more deadly run free. I keep trying to clear my head, but whenever one physically TRIES to do that…"

"...It backfires," Alfred nodded in understanding. "And I take it you can't find the connection between her robberies, either?"

"The three items couldn't be any more different," Bruce grunted, opening his eyes and clasping his hands together thoughtfully as he spoke. "Different countries, different purposes, different shapes...none of them is in any way like the other, but I know for a fact they have to be tied together somehow. She's too smart to just steal random items for the sake of it."

"The fact she seems to know what she's after each time indicates that, as well," Alfred observed. "She's been leaving a trail of bread crumbs for you."

"Not this time," Bruce snorted. "She said nothing to me...she told Jim that I was a 'triple-threat,' and that it was 'a pity we don't have it all together.' I see no clue in that besides confirmation of what I already know. It's a puzzle...I just don't know how to fit the pieces together…"

"And with three of Gotham's most infamous rogues incensed," Alfred murmured grimly, "If you don't hurry, you could have a war on your hands."

"Exactly. And-"

Bruce paused...slowly he lifted his head, light flickering in his cerulean irises.

"...War."

"Beg pardon, sir?"

Bruce stood abruptly.

"Alfred...the toy of Grock was from Switzerland in 1943; right in the middle of the second World War."

"And the Enigma Machine was a German device used during the same conflict," Alfred nodded slowly. "But what does that have to do with…?"

"The sculpture of Bast was donated to Gotham by a private collector; he first got the statue in 1944."

"A year after the first record of the toy's production," Alfred realized. "Do you think the War itself could be the connection?"

"Possibly...but how could it…?"

Bruce froze...then looked up at Alfred again...and abruptly pushed past him, removing his robe as he headed for the stairs.

"Master Bruce? What is it?"

"Head down to the Batcave," Bruce commanded. "Find every possible image you can of the items stolen, I want to see them from all angles. Top to bottom."

"I'll try my best on the Batcomputer, sir, but where are you off to in such a rush?"

"The library!" the billionaire declared, and vanished into the upstairs bedroom before a confused Alfred Pennyworth could get another word out.

* * *

"_Meglio stasera, che domani o mai! Domani chi lo sa...quel che sara…?"_

This was the tune performed by the house band of the Iceberg Lounge, as a lithe lady in a black dress entered the nightclub. Her bright green eyes flickered as she took in the smoky atmosphere of the club, from the youngest people dancing on the floor, to the oldest patrons sipping sparkling, fruity drinks from the finest glasses.

Selina Kyle - wearing a blonde wig and sunglasses, along with elbow-length black silk gloves and high-heeled, knee-high boots, felt her fingers twitch over her handbag. She never liked being here...while the Lounge was far from a place for altruism and law-abiding friendliness, this was just as much a pro as a con.

After looking around for a while, her eyes finally lighted upon a corner table in the murky shadows, and the two figures seated there.

She briskly trotted over to the table and frowned at the two men she found waiting.

"You better have a good reason for this," she said coldly.

One of the two men was the Joker, leaning back in his chair with his legs crossed up on the table, alternating between slurping loudly through the straw in his wine glass...and childishly blowing bubbles in his drink. He looked up at Catwoman, paused just long enough to give her a wide, toothy smile and a wink, and returned to his infantile antics.

The other man was the Penguin. Oswald Cobblepot, garbed in his fur-lined coat and top hat, tappred the table with the forefinger of one of his deformed, flipper-like hands, while the other rested on his cheek. He sneered at the Jaded Jester, his monocle glinting as his beady black eyes smoldered, before glancing up almost boredly at Selina Kyle over the point of his beaky nose.

"First of all, my dear," he said, crisply, "I'm just as much in protest to spending time around this cornball crook as you are."

"I prefer 'screwball sociopath,' thank you very much," the Joker broke in, before returning to his drink obnoxiously.

"And second of all," Penguin went on, as if the Clown Prince hadn't spoken at all, "Would you kindly remove that ridiculous headpiece? It's most unflattering, and it REALLY doesn't help as much as you think."

Catwoman resolutely kept the wig on. Penguin sighed and shrugged.

"Very well; suit yourself. Far be it for me to delegate a lady's arraignments."

Selina sat down and glanced between the two once more, narrowing her eyes behind her shades.

"Why did you call me here?"

"My dear Miss Kyle, I'M not the one responsible for this pestilential powwow."

"Nor I!" piped the Ace of Knaves.

Selina tilted her head.

"Okay...I'll bite. Who is?"

"That," came a new voice, "Would be me."

The three villains looked up as a fourth figure, dressed almost entirely in green and carrying a question mark cane, stepped out of the shadows with a superior smirk.

"Ah, Eddie Boy!" the Joker sang out, lifting his glass as if in toast, and wiggling one of his feet. "Fashionably late, I take it?"

"Hello, Joker," the Riddler greeted, dryly. "Eat any good books lately?"

"Please, I prefer to chew scenery."

"Question, Edward," Selina sighed. "What is the safest way to talk with an outlaw?"

"By long distance," the Riddler answered without missing a beat.

"Next time you might remember that," Catwoman sneered.

"Ahem!" Penguin coughed, getting attention and regaining order at the table. He rose from his seat and doffed his hat to the Count of Conundrums. "Have a seat, Mr. Nygma. Miss Kyle and I were simply pondering the surprise of this little get-together."

"I promise not to waste your time, Oswald," Riddler nodded back, and took a seat with a smile.

"That'll be a first," mumbled Joker with a soft snicker.

The other three glared at him, but he paid them no heed as he simply blew some more bubbles in his drink.

"I was confused about your call," Penguin started, clasping his flipper-like hands on the table as he glared at Riddler. "The last time you came to my domain, you called it, if my recollections are not mistaken, 'a nest of swirling vipers where the boors of mankind seem to propagate.' Your eloquence was charming. The intent and meaning of the statement? Less so."

Riddler chuckled, hanging his cane on the back of his chair. He then leaned forward on the table, and adjusted his purple-tinted sunglasses.

"I asked you to reserve time and a table for this meeting, Mr. Cobblepot, because I think you will have something to gain…"

He gestured to Catwoman and the Joker.

"...And because I know you both will."

Catwoman said nothing. The Joker, looking tremendously bored, waved a hand for the Riddler to continue as he slurped his drink.

"The three of us," he said to the pair, "Share a common enemy."

"Batman?" Catwoman sighed, wearily, while the Joker rolled his eyes.

Nygma shook his head seriously.

"No. Carmen Sandiego."

Penguin froze.

Catwoman hissed, fists clenching.

The Joker abruptly choked on his drink, coughing and sputtering as he managed to move into a proper sitting position, and placed the glass on the table.

"Ugh...gack...oh, SURE," he snarled, rubbing his chest as he caught his breath. "You have to bring HER up."

"Each of us three has had a heist foiled by her interference," Riddler pointed out, drumming his fingers together. "She's stolen our thunder and bruised our egos. As much as I'm sure each of us would like to take her out solo, not even Batman has been able to catch her. We'll stand a better chance working together."

"What does that have to do with me?" Penguin broke in.

Riddler grinned.

"Riddle Me This: why should you always have at least four people at any gathering?"

Penguin gave the Prince of Puzzles a cold, dry stare.

"Answer!" Riddler boomed. "Because three make a crowd, but more make a party! HEEHEEHEEHOOHOO!"

He burst out into a fit of manic giggling...but soon stopped himself at the look his fellow villains gave him.

"Ahem...pardon me."

"Leave the psychotic laughter to the professionals, Eddie, please," drawled Joker.

"I see no reason to join your little band of rascals," Penguin snorted, pulling a cigarette and his cigarette holder from somewhere in the folds of his heavy fur coat, and putting the two together. "Miss Sandiego has not meddled in my affairs yet."

"Nobody in Gotham knows the criminal underworld better than you," Nygma responded.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Edward," Penguin muttered.

"It's a statement of fact. It's the reason the bothersome Bat comes here to make you his little stool pigeon now and again: you know almost everything that goes wrong in the city, and you know every urban legend there is to know. If its seedy or greedy, you have your talons in it, and we all know that."

"Move along, Mr. Nygma; please, come to the point."

"The point is, Oswald," Nygma said slyly. "You can't tell me you're not interested in…"

He glanced from side to side, then leaned in and whispered conspiratorially…

"...Lost Treasure."

At those words, both the Joker and Catwoman gaped and leaned closer.

Penguin gave the Riddler an unaffected look, and then sniffed through the wide nostrils of his long, snipe nose.

"That's just a story," he said. "An idle flight of fancy."

"The fact you know what I'm talking about tells me you're interested, nevertheless," Riddler pressed.

"Why should I help you find it?" Penguin scoffed as he lit the cigarette with a wooden match, shook the match out, and placed it in an ashtray. "I don't like sharing."

"Neither do I," Riddler insisted. "But I'm not interested in the loot. I want to prove my intellect; I need to show this upstart in red who Gotham's Cleverest Carbon-Based Lifeform truly is."

"I sympathize," Catwoman sneered. "That statue and a chance to really sock it to her is all that matters to me. The thrill of the hunt is my reward."

"I won't say no to money," snorted Joker. "But frankly tossing a cyanide-laced pie in her face will be worth more than…"

He paused, tilted his head...then shook it.

"Actually, no, I lie; a million bucks is a million bucks, but I'll settle for just the pie in the face."

"So you see," Edward Nygma finished, "All that loot could potentially be yours. So tell me, Mr. Cobblepot...what do you know about the Triad Treasure?"

Penguin paused uneasily, a conflicted look in his eyes. On the one hand, siding with these three seemed like a possibly unsafe maneuver...and after all…

"It's just a myth."

"Myths always carry a grain of truth," Catwoman purred.

"And if this Triad Treasure thingy leads to a whole stash of the best birdseed," Joker grinned, "I'm sure you wouldn't be against sharing a teeny-tiny tidbit of info with us, would you, Pengy?"

Penguin took a long drag from his cigarette...then blew a smoke ring towards the ceiling.

"Fine," he groused. "But this better be worth my while."

"It shall be," Nygma promised.

Catwoman nodded in agreement, while the Joker gave a playful mock salute.

Penguin paused for another moment, took another drag from his cigarette...then adjusted his monocle with a sigh.

"Listen close, my fine feathered finks, and listen well…"

"Oh, goody!" exclaimed Joker, bouncing in his seat, and adopting a voice like a toddler. "Uncle Ozzy's gonna tell us a beddy-bye story!"

"SHHH!" hushed Riddler and Catwoman.

Joker stuck his tongue out at them, then smirked at Penguin.

Penguin blinked...sighed...shook his head...and then continued.

"...It all began in the 1940s...right in the middle of the Second World War…"


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter VIII: Discovered Check**

Alfred's tuxedo jacket was hung on the back of the chair before the Batcomputer, his gloves placed to one side, as his fingers flashed over the keyboard and he watched the screen carefully, scouring the Internet for every bit of information he could possibly find…

"Any luck?"

The butler jumped and wheeled around...then sighed softly, one hand over his heart as he saw Bruce Wayne standing there, dressed in casual blacks, a library bag in one hand.

Bruce smiled slightly.

"Didn't mean to startle you."

"Well, you bloody did!" snapped the butler. "You're more quiet than a real bat!"

Bruce shook his head with amusement. Alfred quickly recovered and turned back around to focus on his search.

"Any luck?" Bruce asked again, a little more insistently.

"Some," Alfred said, and looked up at Bruce. "You wanted EVERY angle, yes?"

"Correct."

"Well, I've found decent references for every angle but one so far," Alfred admitted. "The bottom. Perhaps unsurprisingly, not many photographs exist available to the public at large showcasing the bottom portions of the items burglarized by VILE."

"I was worried about that," Bruce frowned. "Keep searching. Do anything you can; we need that information."

"I can only try my best, sir," Alfred sighed, then paused and tilted his head as he looked up at Bruce. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

"Easily," Bruce nodded, and lifted a book out of the bag with the title "Urban Legends of Old Gotham City."

Alfred cocked one eyebrow and grimaced.

"You were in an almighty hurry to pick up a book of superstitious folklore?"

"As if I haven't been in a hurry to pick up stranger things?"

"...Touché."

Bruce opened the book and turned to one particular chapter, then showed it to Alfred: the frontispiece for the chapter was a grayscale inked image of an aritst's rendition of a cave, filled with treasures untold: gold, jewels, and lost works of art.

It was titled, "The Triad Treasure."

Alfred blinked, clearly familiar with the old story as he looked up at Bruce.

"You...can't be serious, sir."

"I'm dead serious," Bruce answered.

"But-"

"It fits! Listen carefully," Bruce said, and then turned his attention to the book and began to read…

"It all began in the second World War, early in the 1940s. As horror and destruction spread across the globe, three men from different sides of the conflict all came to realize that the planet was tearing itself apart. They wanted to preserve some of civilization that might otherwise be destroyed, and create a beacon of peace in the process. These three men were all high-ranking officials in their respective alliances: one was an Egyptian archaeologist; Egypt was sided with the Allied Forces. The second was a German scientist; Germany, of course, was the head of the Axis Powers. The third was an ambassador from Switzerland, which was one of the most prominent neutral countries during the war. Together, they amassed an incalculable fortune of money, precious gems, and rare works of art, captured by both sides of the conflict, and decided to store them in a secret location, so that when the war was over, they might be unveiled to the world."

Bruce paused impressively, then continued.

"Now, the three men weren't sure where to hide this treasure - later referred to colloquially as 'the Triad Treasure' - where greater powers wouldn't think to look. They decided to set their focus on a place that was innocuous and small; someplace where nobody would ever imagine looking: Gotham. At the time, Gotham City was much smaller and less industrial than it is now. It had a long way to go before becoming one of the great cities of our world. With the help of the current mayor of Gotham, who was also a secret member of the CIA, the men had the treasure buried somewhere in the environs of the city."

Bruce took a deep breath.

"However, all three of the men quickly became suspicious of each other, as any men who share a great and wealthy secret might. They wanted to ensure one wouldn't betray the other, so that the loot could be dispersed properly in the end. So, the mayor hid the treasure in secrecy, and gave each of the three men only one part of a clue to its location, and each clue in a different language: Latin for the Egyptian, and German and Swedish for the other two conspirators, respectively."

Bruce looked up at Alfred, who was listening raptly.

"Why Swedish?" the butler thought to ask.

"There is no 'Swiss' language, and Sweden was another neutral coutnry. This is where things get interesting," he said, and turned back to the book, reading from it once more. "Each of the three men hid their clues in objects native to their countries; objects each of them were able to get hold of. The plan was that, once the war ended, they would reconvene in a secure location, each bringing their part of the puzzle, and then - with a team of helpers - go unearth their treasure together. The most elaborate attempt at cultural preservation anybody ever tried. Like most elaborate schemes, however, it backfired: the German scientist was executed by the Nazis, when they discovered he had been conspiring with the enemy in some way, and the Swiss ambassador was killed in a car crash on his own birthday. To top it all off, the Mayor of Gotham - Mayor Tolliver - died of heart failure only days after the war ended."

Bruce slowly looked up at the computer screen, and focused on one particular image Alfred had pulled up.

"...There was only one survivor of the plan…"

* * *

"...The Egyptian Archaeologist," Penguin growled through his teeth, which were clenched around his cigarette holder. "The same one, by happy happenstance, who donated the sculpture of Bast to the British Museum a year before the war ended, as a means of hiding it. The same sculpture that was later handed over to our own Natural History Museum. It was the Archaeologist, my fishy, felonious friends, who told this story to others, and it is through him word spread. However, because no one was ever able to verify the very existence of the other puzzle pieces, let alone what they were, and certainly let alone the location of the treasure, the tale quickly descended into rumor and myth. Other crooks and explorers have gone searching for the doomed treasure, but none have succeeded."

"Until now," purred Catwoman. "That's why she wanted that sculpture."

"It's true there was a Latin inscription found on the bottom," Penguin nodded, and tapped some ash off his cigarette.

"Then Grock must have been what the Swiss ambassador hid his part of the message on!" exclaimed the Joker.

"He DID have children," Penguin confirmed.

"And it would have been easy for a German scientist to get hold of an Enigma Machine," Nygma finished with a nod. "That much I figured out myself."

"Clearly," Penguin sniffed. "But how could Carmen Sandiego have figured the whole thing out?"

"A woman with a genius-level intellect who has tried to steal the Declaration of Independence no less than twice, and very nearly succeeded?" Riddler drawled. "Far be it from me to give someone too much credit, but I think the real question is, 'how could she have NOT figured it out?'"

"Riddler's right for once!" barked the Joker.

"However she managed it," Catwoman murmured, "She must have also learned that all three items were here in Gotham, all at the same time. All she had to do was get hold of them, then she'd have three antiques AND a priceless treasure, all in one fell swoop."

"Leave the avian phrases to me," Penguin grunted, rubbing his flipper-like hands together and raising the eyebrow over his glistening monocle as he looked over to the Riddler. "I suppose you got a good look at the inscription on the Enigma Machine?"

"I did, and I deciphered its meaning," Riddler confessed. "But without the other two clues, we won't get much of anywhere, you know."

"I don't suppose you got a look at the underside of Grock's Jack-in-the-Box, did you?" Catwoman inquired of the Joker.

The wicked clown grinned.

"Nope," he admitted. "But perhaps we don't need those silly clues after all."

"What do you mean?" Penguin asked, tilting his head.

"Simple, my long-nosed gosling," Joker cooed. "We don't need to know the clues to know where to go…"

He grinned wider, so wide it showed his gums, as his purple eyes glittered menacingly.

"...We simply have to know somebody who DOES have them...and if WE'VE got this all figured out, I'm willing a certain somebody else has a clue or three, too…"

Penguin smirked.

"A certain flying rodent?"

"Pengy-Wengy, you read my mind…"

Catwoman and Riddler glanced at one another and grinned deviously.

* * *

"Then, sir," Alfred said slowly. "You believe the inscriptions that lead to the clues are located on the bottom part of each item."

"If you pull up the museum records," Bruce nodded, "We might be able to find photos of the bottom parts of each item. Especially in Gotham, authenticity is key."

Alfred nodded, and turned his attention back to the Batcomputer. He rattled away at the keyboard and skidded the mouse over its pad for a while...until, finally, after searching for a long time, he came up with images of the bottom parts of each item.

"The Latin inscription on the sculpture is clear," Alfred remarked. "Imagine hiding a clue on something older than the War itself!"

"He probably found it at a dig and worked with what he had," Bruce remarked, and picked up a paper pad and a black pen. "Read it to me."

_"Nam opes et pacem, post bellum, descendunt gradibus et reserare fores."_

Bruce paused and translated in his own handwriting.

"For wealth and peace, after the war, go down the stairs and unlock the door."

"Far from Robert Frost, isn't it?" Alfred smirked.

"It may not be the best poetry, but it's possibly the most valuable," Bruce said seriously. "Now for Grock."

Alfred pulled up the next image and frowned.

"It's...rather faded...hard to read, but I'll try my best...Swedish isn't my strong point: _En grotta ligger under marken, och här ska skatten hittas."_

"A cavern lies beneath the ground, and here the treasure shall be found," Batman readily translated. "Only the Enigma Machine is left."

"How fitting for a puzzle," mumbled Alfred, and pulled up the image. "Oh, dear...this one is particularly badly faded...I can't make every word out…"

"Bring up the contrast, adjust the brightness, do whatever you have to! We can't waste time!"

After a little bit of work, Alfred managed to get to a semi-legible place.

"I THINK it reads, _Welches Gebäude sollten Sie suchen? Es glories in der Tatsache, dass es die meisten Geschichten hat."_

Bruce nodded, and scratched out a hasty translation.

"Well, if you are correct, then the final clue is: 'Which building should you seek? It glories in the fact it has the most stories.'"

"Then the treasure is hidden beneath the tallest building in Gotham?" Alfred frowned. "That would mean the Wayne Enterprises Building."

"This is Gotham in the 1940s," Bruce shook his head. "The tower hadn't been built yet."

"Then perhaps simply the tallest of the time? A church, or an old monument?"

Bruce shook his head again.

"It seems to easy, too obvious," he answered. "I think it's a riddle, Alfred…"

He paused for a second, then snapped his fingers.

"A library."

"Beg pardon, sir? You're not going again, are you?"

"Not to the same one, no," smirked Bruce. "But a library is the answer: it has more stories than any building."

Alfred nodded, and turned back.

"Well," he said, "There is the Old Gotham Public Libary, just off Gotham Harbor. It's been abandoned for years, but it was around during that time period. If nothing else, it fits the clues we've been given, presuming our interpretation isn't wrong."

"It better not be," Bruce Wayne muttered, walked over to a large steel display case with a glass front…

...And peered into the empty eyes of the cowl within.

"I have time to prepare before nightfall. If I'm correct...then Carmen Sandiego is all but ours."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter IX: Pawn Storm**

The moon was waning in the sky over Gotham; it was now the fourth night since the blood moon had illuminated the city in its scarlet glow, a portent of things to come. Now the asymmetrical silver spotlight gave things a pale, gaunt tint as it shined over the city, the stars surrounding it in the inky black of the night blotted out by the glare of hundreds of streetlamps and apartment lights.

A slight mist rose up from Gotham Bay and across the bridge that led from the teeming city to the older, less populous regions. The traffic on this bridge was nonexistent; only one vehicle currently moved across it: a large, sleek automobile of deepest ebony, with fins that resembled the wings of a bat, and a hood ornament in the shape of a vampire bat's head.

Through the tinted windows, Batman peered closely through the fog as he silently drove into Old Gotham. This sector of the city held nothing but bad memories; much of it had been sanctioned off as "historic monuments," but parts of it were still freshly populated, and these parts - though sparse - were just as seedy and as ruthless as the rest of the town, if not more so. It was here where one could find the old Monarch Theater; it was here where one could find the remains of the Ace Chemical Factory; it was here where one could find Crime Alley. It was stuck to the city like a corrupting leech; the speckles of good within barely keeping it tethered, so that its pestilential presence could never quite be undone.

Not that removing it would do much good; the Batman knew better than anyone: you can take away the buildings, you can lock up all the hoodlums, but it never removes the memories.

He shook his slightly to clear his head of musings as he rolled through the old district, set on a course for the abandoned Gotham Library. Even the library held dark secrets; its security had been next to nil, and one tragic evening, an innocent clerk met their end at the hands of an impudent bandit. The Library, quiet and studious, had been considered a safe haven; once that safety was breached, it seemed to start a steady but noticeable decline in business, even when security measures increased. It was a little too late: a newer, larger, much more well-kept domain in the main core of the city had ultimately eradicated what little business it had.

Now, the Old Gotham Library stood derelict and gray, its academic excellence and quaint radiance as faded and lifeless as the rest of the place. The Dark Knight turned onto the deserted, narrow street, then guided the car out onto the old waterfront district; it was set to be demolished in just a few weeks, and stood like a haunted aberration, crooked and gnarled in every part of it.

The auto glided into a parallel parking position just outside the old library. The top of the Batmobile slid back, almost like a convertible, and the Caped Crusader undid the seatbelt before jumping up and out, his cape flaring out for a moment before dropping to his sides once more, the black, cowled cloak shrouding much of his muscular framework from view as he looked up at the bent, broken sign of the place, which my now was missing a few letters: "Go ham Lib ry."

Quietly, the vigilante tapped the side of his pointy-eared cowl, and a pair of night vision lenses slid into place over his blue eyes. He glanced back for only a moment, as if to check for a trap, then moved to the door and turned the knob.

Unlocked, and not at all stuck.

"She's already here," he murmured to himself.

"Then, sir," came Alfred's voice in his ear, "You shall have to be especially cautious, as well as quick."

"I usually am," Batman responded briskly, and entered the dusty, dark library.

As the door closed behind him, the masked man grimaced at the copious amounts of dust that filled the battered old place. The shelves were all empty, and the smell of age and decay was heavy in his nostrils.

It took only a few moments for him to get straight to work, however, as he immediately spotted something on the floor below him…

"Footprints," he muttered, crouching down to examine them closely. "At least four VILE-Bots, and two others I can't rightly make out. My guess is Carmen Sandiego and Dr. Sara Bellum."

"Your guess is most educated, sir," Alfred snarked.

Behind the lenses, Batman rolled his eyes, then stood back up and crept through the creaky building, following the footprints closely, muttering to himself as he pieced together the events that happened while he worked…

"The tracks split apart...the clue never did say exactly where in the library to look. But it couldn't have taken too long...aha! It didn't. The tracks come together again. It looks like one of the Bots found…"

He paused.

"...What they were looking for."

A door simply labeled "Basement" in long-chipped painted letters seemed to beckon him on from just a few feet away. The footprints led straight to it.

The vigilante jogged over and threw open the old door; a flight of wooden steps led down into the depths.

Carefully, the Caped Crusader moved down the rickety steps; he saw that one of them had been broken, and was cautious as he moved past it, so as not to lose his footing. It was impossible to tell how long ago the board had broken, but he thought it was likely that either Sara Bellum or one of the robots had been clumsy enough to cause the issue.

At the bottom of the stars lay a vacant, dark room that seemed even dustier than the upstairs for the main library. The room was totally barren, without a single shelf or item left behind, aside from the rusty, disused machines that had once provided heat and light…

Therefore, Batman did not even need to see the footprints on the ground to immediately recognize the lone, worm-eaten bookshelf, standing directly ahead of him on the far wall of the basement room.

Batman approached the bookshelf and looked it over; he quickly saw a handprint on the side of the shelf, right over a dark knot in the wood.

"For wealth and peace after the war…"

He glanced back over his shoulder.

"...Go down the stairs…"

He turned back and placed his hand over the knot...which gave way beneath his fingers.

A secret button.

"...Unlock the door."

The bookshelf slid aside like an automated doorway, revealing a dark passage and another staircase: this one long, winding, and carved from stone. Batman paused, took a deep breath, exhaled, and began the descent into the shadows.

He wasn't sure how long he walked; it couldn't have been more than a few minutes, yet in the darkness and the quiet, it felt like over an hour. Finally, he came to the end of the passage, and found himself inside a long tunnel beneath the ground. He paused for a moment to take in his surroundings.

"'A cavern lies beneath the ground,'" he recited softly. "We're under the water now, beneath Gotham Bay."

"Correction, sir, YOU are under the water."

"I was referring to Carmen Sandiego, Alfred."

"Oh."

Batman smirked for a moment, but it was gone as soon as it appeared, and he walked carefully through the tunnel, his eyes and ears peeled…

...Until he saw a light up ahead, and heard the sound of metal being disturbed, like someone sifting through a huge pile of coins…

He crept over and pressed himself against the wall, before sliding over to the edge of the cave entrance...then peered around the corner.

His eyes widened behind his cowl, as the night vision lenses retracted.

Before him was a treasure trove beyond compare; it would have made the hoard of the greediest dragon of any fairy-tale exceptionally envious. Coins of every known currency, from the ancient to the more modern, were kept in huge, heaping piles; golden statues sat in a huge ring against the circular cave wall; jeweled ornaments and baubles were strewn about haphazardly, sparkling with all the colors of the rainbow; silver chalices, cutlery, and blades, which had seemingly never lost their luster, were scattered everywhere; large paper or canvas scrolls, presumably paintings that had never seen the light of day, were propped up and set down against the stacks.

Four VILE-Bots were hard at work, their gears clanking and whirring as they used their capture orbs to "capture" some of the treasure, and then place it inside one of several huge metal crates. In the center of all this splendor and activity stood two women. One was Sara Bellum, the mad doctor of VILE grinning widely and cackling to herself as she fiddled with the control device for the VILE-Bots, and barked orders in cutting French.

The other, of course, was…

"CARMEN SANDIEGO!"

The Bots and Dr. Bellum looked up, the latter gulping nervously and taking a step back.

_"Mon dieu!" _she exclaimed.

Carmen Sandiego, who had been gazing calmly and thoughtfully at a sculpture of what looked like an Egyptian Queen, turned almost casually, and smiled in a slippery way, one steely blue eye visible in the shadow of her hat brim and coat collar as her ruby red lips curved up in a sinister curl.

"Good evening, Detective!" she greeted, pleasantly, and bowed her head respectfully. "Aren't you the Super Sleuth? Welcome to the hideaway of the legendary Triad Treasure! A fortune of more than one sort! Isn't it magnificent?"

Batman growled, and sprinted into the cave.

"SARA! NOW!" yelled Carmen.

The evil scientist wasted no time, and shouted to one of the VILE-Bots.

"SIC 'IM!"

The bot lifted its cannon arm and fired a green orb at the Caped Crusader...who was just slightly too slow to avoid it, and grunted as she suddenly found himself surrounded by a lime-colored forcefield. He snarled and pushed at the forcefield, but it didn't budge an inch.

"At last!" crowed Sara Bellum. "Ze Great Batman, trapped like a rat! _Magnifique!"_

"It is," Carmen agreed with a nod, placing her hands behind her back as she approached the captured Caped Crusader primly, a supercilious smirk on her face. "I'll confess I'm a little surprised you managed to make it, Detective. Most sleuths don't even get this far when they're on my trail."

"You disappoint me, Sandiego," Batman sneered, narrowing his eyes behind the forcefield and beneath his cowl. "All that build up so you could steal a fortune in gold and priceless antiques...perhaps you're just another common thief after all."

The one visible eye beneath the hat brim widened, blinked...then abruptly, Carmen threw her head back and let out a derisive, booming laugh that echoed everywhere...so loud, and so wild, it even made Sara Bellum jump a bit.

"HA HA HA HA HA HA HA! Oh, for the World's Greatest Detective, you still have much to learn, don't you?" she snickered. "Believe me, Dark Knight: there's nothing 'common' about me at all!"

"We may have a slight difference of opinion there, Madam!" a new voice called out.

All eyes turned toward the cave entrance once again...to see a short, stout man, with a beaky nose and flipper-like hands, dressed in a top hat and fur-lined black-and-purple coat, a cigarette holder pinched between his teeth, standing right before them. He held a black and purple umbrella in one hand, the ferrule of the umbrella pointed straight at Carmen.

"Well. Hello, Mr. Cobblepot," the Lady in Red purred.

Oswald C. Cobblepot smirked in a slimy way.

"The much-debated Carmen Sandiego, I presume?"

"No. The UNSTOPPABLE Carmen Sandiego."

"What is YOUR angle in this, Penguin?" Batman demanded, a little wearily.

"It's just like you said, Cowled Copper," sneered Gotham's Bird of Prey, pulling his cigarette hold from his mouth as he spoke. "A fortune in gold and priceless antiques. Of course, it helps to have friends in low places…"

He whistled sharply before replacing his cigarette holder, and out of the shadows stepped Catwoman, Joker, and Riddler, each one wearing a smug expression as they looked between Carmen Sandiego and their oldest opponent.

"Riddle Me This!" Edward Nygma declared. "Why did the nocturnal zookeeper make a good baseball player?"

He pointed his question mark cane at the Dark Knight and giggled.

"HEEHEEHOOHOO! Answer: because he knew how to handle a Bat!"

"Riddler knew the library was the key to this place," Catwoman hissed. "All we had to do was follow from a discreet distance, so we knew how to get in!"

"Looks like the joke is on both of you this time!" cackled the Clown Prince of Crime.

Batman scowled silently.

Carmen, ever unflappable, clapped politely.

"Perhaps I underestimated you all," she observed, smoothly.

"Oh, indeed you did!" snarled Joker, and reached into his coat pocket. "But never fear…"

He whipped out a long-barreled revolver with a wicked grin, and aimed it straight at Carmen Sandiego.

"...We think you'll get a BANG out of this!"

Abruptly, one of the VILE-Bots dove forward, blocking Carmen from the Joker's path as the Ace of Knaves pulled the trigger…

BOING!

A bright red and yellow flag with the word "BANG!" stenciled on it in bold letters popped out of the gun barrel on a pointed metal rod.

"See? Told you!" the Joker sang out.

The VILE-Bot's blank face looked at Joker in confusion for a moment, then turned to look up at Batman, almost questioningly…

At which point, the Joker pulled the trigger a second time.

CRACK!

The flag shot out like a spear and jammed itself inside the VILE-Bot's Power Pack. The robot sparked, sputtered, jolted, and collapsed…

...And a moment later, the forcefield around Batman fizzled out, and the vigilante dropped onto his feet.

Penguin, Catwoman, and Riddler blinked...then looked to the Joker and glared.

The Joker looked at Batman...then the fallen VILE-Bot...then his gun...and let out a nervous laugh.

"Heh heh...whoopsy! Dopey me…"

"Thank you, Joker," Batman hissed. "And thank you all for coming. Now…"

He lowered into a predatory crouch, and got into a fighting position. Carmen Sandiego chuckled, eternally calm, as the rest of those around her quickly crouched ready, as well.

"...I'm taking ALL of you in."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter X: Fork & Skewer**

"VILE-Bots!" Sara Bellum barked into her microphone. "GET ZEM ALL!"

The three remaining robots all rushed towards Joker, Penguin, and Riddler. Carmen Sandiego and Dr. Sara Bellum darted back as Batman and Catwoman lunged toward them.

Catwoman flew at Sara Bellum; the mad scientist in the crew cut nimbly jumped back, and reached into her labcoat pocket with her free hand, pulling out a bizarre-looking silver gun.

ZAM! ZAM! ZAM!

Out of the weapon fired pink-colored bolts of laser-like energy. Catwoman acrobatically flipped and dodged every shot as Sara Bellum snarled and traced her every move doggedly.

"Hold still, you stupid cat-lady!" Sara snapped.

Meanwhile, one of the VILE-Bots aimed its cannon arm at the Riddler. Edward Nygma ducked to avoid the blast of green energy, and then swung his cane upward, knocking the robot backward. The droid quickly recovered, and swung its other arm around in a punch. The Riddler parried the strike with his cane, like an experienced fencer, and then and skipped back to avoid a lashing kick. He then hurriedly moved around the Bot, and aimed his cane.

BANG!

A bullet shot out of the question-mark-shaped golden rod, and lodged itself in the Bot's Power Pack. The VILE-Bot stumbled, not quite destroyed yet, and almost desperately swung at the Riddler again...only to miss before collapsing in a still-sputtering heap.

The Riddler giggled, blew the smoke away from the tip of his cane gun, and then twirled it theatrically.

The second Bot ran towards the Penguin, who let out a squawking laugh as he opened the umbrella, revealing the black-and-purple spiral pattern on the fabric...before suddenly, the open bumbershoot began to spin around very, VERY fast indeed, a loud whirring sound echoing in the cave as it set to work.

With a growl, the Penguin swung the open umbrella, the stunted fatman darting past the mechanical menace as - BZZZT! - the umbrella cleaved straight through one of its legs like a buzzsaw blade. Penguin then whirled around stomped onto the Bot's back, and crushed the Power Pack under one of his shoes.

"You should really see about investing in better hardware, Miss Sandiego!" he called out. "That is, if you survive this encounter...which I doubt."

Meanwhile, the third VILE-Bot rushed at the Joker, who yelped comically as he dodged the strike, before throwing his hands up as if in surrender…

...Just a pair of playing cards sprang out of his sleeve and into his hands.

"Dealer's choice!" he cackled, and tossed the cards at the robot. The droid dodged one of them...only for the second to get lodged in its red "eye." Its optic sensor destroyed, the Bot lifted its cannon arm and fired blindly in the direction the Joker had been in.

With a squeal of joy, the Joker began to run in circles around the Bot, as it continued to fire widly.

"Missed me, missed me, and you'll never kiss me!" sang the Harlequin of Hate, before dropping and skidding behind the confused machine. With a snarl, he snapped another razor-edged playing card into his left hand...and promptly jammed it into the Power Pack like a dagger.

The VILE-Bot immediately dropped to the floor in a smoking wreck, and the Joker gallantly placed one foot on its back and shook both his fists, like a matador celebrating his victory.

"FATALITY!" he brayed. "Joker Wins! TOASTY!"

Batman, meanwhile, had gone straight for Carmen Sandiego. The two were locked in a perfectly mirrored battle, each parrying the other's strikes with cunning precision, neither able to get a proper hit on the other. Every punch was stopped, every kick avoided, often blow-to-blow as the pair grappled with each other. Carmen flipped out of the way of several attacks while the Dark Knight hurriedly blocked and sidestepped her own.

"The chase is finished!" Batman declared with a fearsome snarl, as he blocked an uppercut, and then snapped out one of his own...which was blocked just as easily by the crimson villainess.

"You're playing by my rules now, Detective," Carmen grinned back. "The game's not over yet!"

Catwoman, meanwhile, finally lunged at a frustrated Sara Bellum. She hissed and kicked the gun out of Sara's hand...then, with a snap of her whip, knocked the now-useless VILE-Bot controller to the ground. Sara yelped in pain, clutching her whipped hand...then stumbled and clumsily fell back when her foot slipped on a silver cup. She banged her head upon the floor, and moaned as the blow solidly knocked her out.

As the mad scientist of VILE fell to the floor, unconscious, Catwoman yowled and pounced towards the battling duo of Batman and Carmen Sandiego. Both split apart as Catwoman came between them, and promptly kicked Batman dead in the face. The startled vigilante lurched back, and Catwoman growled like an angry wildcat as she began viciously slashing her golden claws at Carmen's face.

The woman in the trenchcoat and hat smiled as she dodged each and every swipe...then WHAM! Lunged forward and punched Catwoman across the jaw.

Selina Kyle snarled and stumbled back...right into the waiting clutches of Batman. Before the Catwoman could react, she suddenly found her hands cuffed.

"HEY!" Selina shouted, and tried to kick Batman again...only for the Dark Knight to duck and knock her onto her back...before tying her legs together with a thick chord.

Catwoman spat and cursed as she writhed to try and break free for a few moments...then looked up at the firm look on Batman's face...and sighed, turning away with a look of defeat.

"Oh, whatever," she grumbled. "It was just a stupid statue…"

Batman couldn't help but smirk...but his mirth was short lived as he heard the violent buzz of Penguin's whirling umbrella.

He moved aside as the stout, beaky-nosed man literally flew past him, using the umbrella like a helicopter.

"I'll cut you to ribbons, Dynamic Dunderhead!" the dapper little crook declared, and flew at the Caped Crusader again. Batman dodged the blades and - WHUMPH! - socked Penguin in his prodigious gut.

The Penguin let out a squawk of pain and fell to the ground, still clutching his umbrella...as the blades stopped whirring and spinning.

"You should have kept your flippers out of this, Cobblepot," snarled Batman.

"I'm never one to miss a literal golden opportunity!" Penguin snapped back, closing his umbrella and gesturing towards the piles of loot around him with its crooked handle…

SCHLINK.

...Out of which appeared a crescent-shaped blade.

With a roar, Penguin wheeled back around, and the handle lashed forward on a chain towards Batman. The Dark Knight side-stepped the attack however, grabbed the chain, and with a yank, pulled the umbrella out of Penguin's hand.

His trademark weapon removed, Penguin promptly turned tail and started to run towards the exit. His fur-lined black-and-purple coat flashed behind him as he moved in an awkward, jerky, "waddling" gait. Batman reached into his utility belt and slung out a bola with bat-shaped weights...which wrapped around Oswald Cobblepot's legs, sending the Bird of Prey to the ground face-first. Penguin gasped, winded, as his monocle fell from his face and cracked on the cave floor.

As the Master of Fowl Play was being dealt with, Carmen Sandiego took the opportunity to break away...but didn't get far before facing interference from the green-suited Riddler. Nygma snarled and lifted his cane gun.

BANG! BANG!

He fired twice, and thankfully missed twice. Carmen smirked, not in the least bit worried even as she was being shot at, and promptly leapt towards the Count of Conundrums. The Riddler's glasses nearly fell from his face as he moved back to avoid a wild haymaker, then grinned as, with a flourish of his cane, he caught Carmen Sandiego by the leg. The Lady in Red gasped in real surprise as she was swiftly tripped up.

The Riddler grinned down at his fallen rival.

"I WIN!" he howled, lifting his cane over his head, as if he intended to beat Carmen to a pulp with it...but as he brought it down, Carmen raised her hands up, catching the weapon.

The Riddler grunted and snarled, as Carmen scrambled to her feet, the two crafty criminals wrestling over the golden question mark...until Carmen, in a fluid, fierce motion, tugged the cane down, and Riddler with it…

...And brought her knee upwards.

THRACK!

The cane gun broke in half with a horrible wrenching sound, and the knee caught the Riddler under the chin. Stunned and in pain, the Prince of Puzzles lost his balance and, like the Penguin, faceplanted into the cavern floor...where, like Sara Bellum, he moaned as he blacked out, drifting quietly into unconsciousness.

Now the only ones left standing in the cavern were Carmen Sandiego, Batman, and the Joker.

The evil clown was the first to make a move. A savage smile crossed his face as he crossed his arms over his chest...and ten cards, five in each hand, flashed out of his sleeve.

"Pick a Card!" he crowed. "Any card! In fact, JUST TAKE 'EM ALL! HA HA HA HA HA!"

With a flourish and a toss, all of the cards flew at the pair. Carmen Sandiego danced out of the way as the Dark Knight swirled his cape and dodged to one side.

With an oily smirk, the Joker reached into his coat pocket...and whipped out a mini-grenade launcher, the grenade painted to look like a clownish happy face.

"This will teach you to tangle with ME, you blood-colored bimbo!" he spat at Carmen, aiming the weapon in her direction. "I ALWAYS BLOW AWAY MY COMPETITION!"

The steel blue eyes under the hat narrowed as Carmen got into a ready position.

"Joker, WAIT!" shouted Batman, and darted towards the masked man…

...But it was too late.

CLICK-**BOOM!**

The Joker fired his grenade, but Carmen Sandiego quickly moved aside...and the grenade sailed and tumbled till it struck the cavern wall...and promptly exploded. The moment it did, the cavern wall cracked...and the whole place began to shake…

Batman went a little pale under his cowl. They were in an undersea cavern...and the ceiling was starting to collapse...

Instinctively, he ran at the Joker...only for the Clown Prince of Crime to slip through his fingers as he tossed the grenade launcher aside and then dove at Carmen Sandiego.

The Lady in Red grunted as the mad clown pounced upon her, manic purple eyes glaring into cold, steely blue irises as the wrestled on the ground.

"Get off me, you maniac!" Carmen sneered.

"STOP!" Batman yelled...only to freeze as a huge ton of rocky debris suddenly dropped from the ceiling.

"JOKER! CARMEN!"

Both looked his way...looked up...and that was the last he saw of them.

THOOM! A huge rock hid them from sight.

Batman froze for just a moment, processing what had just happened…

...Until he felt something wet splash against him, and quickly realized that the cavern was still breaking up, and the whole of Gotham Bay was about to flood the space.

Thinking fast, the masked vigilante hurried over and began to round up the fallen criminals around him. Catwoman was the only one still conscious.

"We have to get out of here!" she yelled.

"Thank you for stating the obvious," growled Batman, as he tied all four villains - Penguin, Riddler, Catwoman, and Dr. Sara Bellum - together in a rope bundle, then pulled a set of small oxygen masks from his utility belt. He forced them onto the faces of the three blacked-out criminals, then much more carefully placed another over Selina's head.

"Keep still," he instructed, and took a deep breath…

WHOOSH!

...As a torrent of seawater rushed into the cavern. Gold, silver, paper, and precious stones were all scattered in the current, as Batman gripped the rope that bound the four crooks together...and braced himelf.

Within seconds, the current had them, and the water was over his head. Batman was strong, but by no means superhuman, and simply held on tight as he let the water pull and push them along. He held his breath; his head was pounding; his chest was burning…

...Finally, he felt the cavern around them disappear, and - not even fully aware of his own motions - slammed his hand onto his utility belt buckle.

For a few seconds...nothing happened then, something huge and black came streaking through the water...and seemingly swallowed the Batman and his cargo whole.

* * *

On the surface of Gotham Harbor, Commissioner Gordon and a team of policemen watched silently, eyes on the bay, unaware of the turmoil going on below.

"He said he'd meet us here," Gordon murmured thoughtfully.

"Ah, the Bat probably lost them again," snorted Harvey Bullock. "I tell ya, Commish, we never-GAH!"

Bullock stumbled back in surprise as out of the water rose the Batboat...the top of which opened up…

...Revealing a sopping wet Batman, and a bundled-up bunch of equally soaked criminals.

"Holy Cow!" exclaimed Bullock.

Gordon and two other officers knelt down and helped the Caped Crusader, who was coughing up seawater out of the boat and onto the dry dock.

"What happened down there?" Gordon asked.

"Had to take a swim," Batman growled in a voice that was far dryer than he felt.

"What a haul!" one of the officers marveled. "Another VILE Agent...and Catwoman, too!"

"Not to mention Penguin and Riddler," muttered Gordon. "But what about Joker? And...what about Carmen Sandiego?"

Batman looked at Gordon for a while...then quietly turned to look out over the dark, peaceful harbor waters.

"...Gone," he said grimly. "And so is the Triad Treasure...buried for good."


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter XI: Endgame**

Three days and three nights had passed since the Triad Treasure had been lost. A search crew was out on the bay, but they had recovered none of the precious items the cave had contained...nor any bodies. However, the broken and rusting pieces of a few VILE-Bots had been recovered, so they knew they were likely looking in the right place.

It was a cold comfort, to say the least.

Batman lay crouched upon a cathedral gargoyle, brooding in the silence of the night, his brain running through the motions as he recalled those last moments in the hidden cavern beneath the harbor.

"It wasn't your fault, sir," Alfred had told him. "There was nothing you could have done."

As if that fact had ever helped in the past.

The Caped Crusader looked up. The moon was curved into a white crescent, looking for all the world like the mocking smile of a Cheshire Cat. The masked man focused on it contemplatively for a while...before another light quickly caught his eye.

It was the Bat-Signal, lighting upon a dark cloud.

Batman scowled, eyes narrowing, and unfurled his cape. He jumped from the gargoyle perch and caught an updraft, gliding through the cool night air. The city seemed so quiet now, he thought, as he flew through the shadows; stillness was so rare in Gotham City, it was honestly more unnerving than excitement.

If you have ever cut yourself VERY deeply with a sharp knife, you know there is a moment or two, immediately after the sensation of pain, and immediately before the blood starts to flow, where you feel a tense sort of numbness; you know what's coming, but for a moment, your brain tricks itself and wonders if it will. That strange sort of tension was perhaps the best analogy for a calm night in Gotham City, and it left Batman particularly uneasy as his cape billowed in the chilly darkness.

In due time, the Caped Crusader found his way to the roof of Police Headquarters...but the moment he dropped down and let his cape fall, he frowned in confusion.

Not a single officer was anywhere around.

"Commissioner?" he called, his voice growling thanks to the modulator in his cowl. "Hello?"

He froze as a familiar, feminine chuckle caught his ears…

...And from around the spotlight...she appeared. He could now make out BOTH of her steel blue eyes, the curve of her ruby red lips, the twinkle of the starlight in her earrings...and of course the flash of her long, red trenchcoat and floppy fedora, which covered up the dark catsuit beneath.

"I was tempted to steal your spotlight, too," Carmen Sandiego almost sang, gesturing towards the Bat-Signal. "But I think I've had enough fun."

There was a pause. Carmen raised an eyebrow, and lifted her right arm; she pulled back her sleeve, glancing at a red and green wristwatch she wore.

"How did you escape?" Batman asked at length, not sure of where else to start.

"It's what I do," Carmen said in a dismissive, casual tone of voice, then smiled up at him again. "Speaking of, my next escape should be here QUITE shortly. We have time to chat till then."

Batman narrowed his eyes and said nothing.

Carmen let out an amused-sounding puff of air, then turned and lifted a medium-sized green bag up from behind the Bat-Signal. With a light, perhaps exaggerated grunt of exertion, she tossed it at Batman's feet.

It opened...and a few gold and silver coins, along with a single painted scroll, fell free. Just an inkling of the rest of its contents.

"I was able to save all that," she said, calmly. "At least some of the Triad Treasure can now be displayed before the world. You'll find the sculpture of Bast, the toy of Grock, and the Enigma Machine in there, too."

Batman glanced down at the bag...then looked back up at the Miss of Misdemeanors.

"What happened to the Joker?" he asked.

To his slight surprise, a frown creased Carmen's lovely face. She dipped her head, eyes hidden by her hat brim, and turned away slightly.

"I don't know," she admitted. "I lost both hold and sight of him during the collapse. I was so focused on gathering as much of the treasure as I could before getting out...I have no clue if he survived."

Batman scoffed.

"Don't beat yourself up about it," he muttered. "I know him too well to think he's gone for good. Experience has taught me that if there's no body, he's just waiting for the right moment to ring the curtain up again."

Carmen said nothing in response. She simply lifted her head and gave Batman a quiet, curious look from beneath her hat brim, the wind rushing through her long, auburn hair.

After another moment's pause, the Dark Knight was alerted to the sound of helicopter rotors. He turned over his shoulder, and saw a large red helicopter, with a huge "V" stenciled onto its side, nearing the rooftop.

He turned back to Carmen and glared.

Carmen smiled almost apologetically.

"There's no point in me trying to catch you now, is there?"

"You're learning, Detective."

"I have only one question."

"I might have an answer."

"Why? If you didn't want to keep the Triad Treasure for yourself, what was the point of all this?"

Carmen gave him a shadowy and secretive smirk.

"You could come up with several reasons," she suggested. "Perhaps I wanted to see how the World's Greatest Detective could match against the World's Greatest Thief. Perhaps I just thought an old-fashioned treasure hunt would be a fun change of pace. Perhaps I simply hoped to do some good with the Treasure, to begin with. In fact, perhaps I suspected your enemies would come after me, allowing you to nab no less than three of Gotham's most heinous villains in a single evening."

"I find that last one hard to believe."

Carmen hummed thoughtfully, and turned her head upwards.

"In the words of philosopher Friedrich Nitetzsche," she purred, "'A casual stroll through the lunatic asylum shows that faith does not prove anything.' Of course, I'm sure you're aware of at least that much…"

She then looked back at the detective with a mysterious smile.

"...Right, Mr. Wayne?"

Batman's eyes widened for a moment...but he quickly regained his composure.

"How did you find out?" he hissed.

The woman in the fedora shrugged, then reached into her trenchcoat…

...And pulled out a batarang. The very same one she had stolen from Batman during their first encounter, several nights ago.

"I have my ways," she said, cryptically, and with a practiced flick of the wrist sent the boomerang-liked blade flying towards the Dark Knight…

...Who deftly caught it in one of his own hands, glaring at the master criminal.

"Oh, don't look at me that way," chortled Carmen. "I was a detective once, too, remember? You may not like me, Batman - it comes with your job description - but I should hope you, of all people, can trust me to know better than to divulge such a startling secret."

As she spoke these words, a light washed over them. Batman looked up; the helicopter had finally arrived. He'd been so focused, it caught him off guard.

Out of the side of the chopper appeared a VILE-Bot; it unrolled a rope ladder, and dropped it down to its mistress.

The elusive thief placed one foot and one hand on the ladder...then grinned rather teasingly back at Batman.

"Last chance, Detective!"

"Leave Gotham. Now. And never come back."

Carmen Sandiego laughed.

"I make no promises. Until Next Crime, Dark Knight…"

She stepped fully onto the ladder, and tipped her hat.

"...CATCH ME IF YOU CAN!"

And just like that the helicopter rose and pulled away...flying off into the night. Still laughing, the Lady in Red waved farewell, as Batman watched the chopper disappear.

Going...going...gone.

The moment Carmen Sandiego was out of sight, the Caped Crusader quietly looked down at the batarang in his hand.

On the flat of the blade was painted a single bright red letter V.

"...Until Next Crime...perhaps I will."

The sound of an alarm going off in the distance - from the direction of the first national bank - broke Batman out of his reverie. With a scowl and a growl, the Dark Knight detective swirled his cape about him...and vanished into the darkness.

Enemies Come, and Enemies Go...But Crime Marches On.

The End


End file.
